


Must Be Something In The Water

by EllanaSan



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Difficult Pregnancy, F/M, Unplanned Pregnancy, lot of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 16:08:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 54,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2434901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllanaSan/pseuds/EllanaSan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Awhile back, there was some sort of pox epidemic that killed a bunch of them and left a lot more infertile. New breeding stock. That's how they see us." (Dalton in Mockingjay). To what extent is that true? What steps are put in place to make sure fertility rates go up rather than down? And how does that affect people living in Thirteen?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First thing first : kudos to Akachankami for the beta and having found the title. 
> 
> A word on that story if you’re interested : I was re-reading Mockingjay and noticed how many times Dalton (the guy from District 10) as well as Katniss mentioned the fact that District 13 see the refugees as “breeding cattle” because they have so many problems having children. It also made me think that for people who had been together for years, Finnick and Annie make a baby awfully fast considering that they’re married what? 3 weeks? Most of which Finnick spends in training? And before that they’re together… about 2 or 3 weeks? So… Since there are so many fertility problems, I assumed means of contraception as well as abortions would be banned and that maybe other steps would be taken to make sure a lot of babies were conceived. I won’t say anything else to not spoil the surprise. 
> 
> I talked about that on twitter and Allonsysilvertongue prompted me to write it so here is the prompt that had gotten so big it became a multi-chaptered story. I hope you will all like it. 
> 
> Ah, yes, and I go with movie canon for this one, so Effie is already in 13 from the start (although she doesn’t have her customized uniform but the regular one because I’m not sure I’m still okay with that customized thing.)

**_ Must Be Something In the Water _ **

Beds in Thirteen weren’t made for tossing and turning, all the more so when two people were crammed in a single bed. Effie kicked off the covers, ignoring Haymitch’s displeased grunt but it didn’t make it any better. She was too hot, she felt nauseous, and the warm body holding her close wasn’t helping matters in the slightest.

She escaped the arm wrapped around her middle and sat at the edge of the bed, focusing on her breathing. Same time every night, she mused, dropping her head in her hands. The feeling was unbearable.

The hand that lazily ran up and down her naked back didn’t bring her any relief and was of no particular comfort.

“Feeling sick again?” Haymitch mumbled, only partially awake. It was how he spent most nights nowadays, dozing off on the edge between sleep and alertness, unable to truly sleep without alcohol or his knife. He held on to Effie instead but just as his hand wasn’t terribly soothing at the moment, she doubted she brought him any particular comfort. It was kindly meant but some things were beyond the reach of even the kindest of intent.

“I hate this.” she whined. She felt on the verge of throwing up but she knew she wouldn’t actually _be_ sick. She had gotten used to the feeling during the last two weeks. It had taken almost a month and a half for her body to start protesting yet she was surprised it hadn’t happened sooner. The hunger was almost excruciating, that was where the nausea came from she was sure. Her stomach was a pit that demanded to be filled and not with the poor-excuse for food they were allotted at each meal. “It’s not right. They’re starving us.”

He remained silent long enough that she knew she had said something wrong. That was also a feeling she was quickly getting used to. In Thirteen, everything she said was considered with loathing if not outright mocked.

“You have three meals a day.” he scolded harshly, as if she was a child. “It’s more than we ever had back home.”

She was probably supposed to say she was sorry. She _did_ feel a bit sorry but she was more nauseous than repentant and it was on the tip of her tongue to remind him that he was a victor and that if he had decided to spent his monthly allowance on liquor rather than on food, it wasn’t her fault. Fighting over something neither could control or change seemed, however, a bit pointless right at that very second.

“It doesn’t change the fact that I am hungry.” she muttered anyway, bending down to pick up her shirt. It was dark and she realized too late it wasn’t actually hers but Haymitch’s. She slipped it on without thinking about it, feeling a bit better once she wasn’t as exposed.

“You will get used to it.” He wrapped an arm around her middle and tugged her back into bed. She didn’t answer right away. It was a promise he had made several times already : she would get used to living underground, she would get used to looking like a District person instead of the Capitol woman she was, she would get used to only eating enough to keep her functioning, she would get used to follow schedules that dictated every possible second of her life thus diminishing her own love for a well-organized time-table… Plutarch told her the same things, except he usually added that the war would hopefully be over soon and they could go back to their usual way of life. Unlike Haymitch, he never berated her for lamenting the loss of her old life.

She laid down on her side, letting him spoon her in an effort to gain space. He was always so quick on telling her to get used to it, she mused, but he was just as quick to dismiss rules he didn’t like. For instance, people were supposed to be in their assigned compartment right before lights out and spend the night there. Haymitch had been allowed private quarters because of his night terrors but Effie wasn’t supposed to sleep in there. She should have been in the compartment she shared with Cressida. It was lucky that the director wasn’t the kind to report her yet Effie still risked being found out and seeing her rare privileges cut out. She didn’t think they would throw her in confinement for that. Thirteen didn’t frown on intercourses outside of wedlock as much as some other Districts did. The fact that it could even be a problem was strange to her Capitol mind. She didn’t see how what she did with her own body was anyone’s business but her own.

His hand slid under the shirt, he dropped a kiss to her neck. “Think of something else.” Since his fingers were teasing their way to her breasts, she had a good idea of what he wanted her to think about.

“I can only think about strawberries dipped in chocolate.” she replied flatly. “And even the mere idea of food is making me want to be sick.”

He sighed so loud her hair were blown in her face. “Sit next to me tomorrow morning, you can have my turnips.”

“I don’t want turnips, I want strawberries.” She pouted before making a face. “No, forget it. I just wish I could have some tea and could we please not talk about food anymore?” It was making the queasiness worse. If only she had some bread… A single roll would have been enough to calm her stomach, she was sure. She had tried to take some with her out of the dinner hall but Haymitch had caught her and had asked her if she fancied being thrown in a cell with all it implied. _For a roll of bread_. She hated living in that place.

“You’re worse than a pregnant woman.” he grumbled against her neck.

The thought made her falter for a second but then she chuckled at how ludicrous the statement was. There wasn’t any other mean of contraception in Thirteen than chastity – a solution that had appealed to neither of them – but between the two of them the chances of her getting pregnant were slim to none anyway. Effie had been told years ago that getting pregnant would be virtually impossible if she didn’t follow a fertility treatment beforehand and as for Haymitch she had been standing right next to him when one of Thirteen’s doctor had told him, on the most disapproving tone Effie had ever heard, that his heavy drinking had very probably destroyed any chance he had of ever fathering children. Haymitch’s answer had been “good riddance” which, they had come to learn since, was deeply offending given that fertility rates in Thirteen were very low. Her discreet enquiries about condoms, pills or anything else that could prevent a pregnancy hadn’t been more appreciated…

Nevertheless, chastity had never been for them – even when they still hated each other, they could barely keep their hands off the other so now that they were tolerating boarding on affectionate, it was worse – and although there was always a very small risk, they thought their respective medical problems, mixed with some caution as to what they were doing and how, were enough safety. Both of them were practically sterile, she simply couldn’t have been pregnant. She dismissed the thought as a good joke.

“I don’t feel well.” she complained for what felt like the thousandth time. She knew he couldn’t do anything for her and she knew there was no use in repeating it aloud but she had been brought up in a world where hunger was simply a game on TV and even though her mind could rationalize the discomfort, her body wasn’t agreeing.

He dropped another kiss to her neck and held her tighter but she could sense his growing impatience. He had no tolerance for her Capitol quirks. “It’s only three hours to breakfast.” – which really meant _“Shut up and let me not-sleep in peace.”_.

Cressida was always more sympathetic when Effie inevitably woke her up with her pacing the room to kill time before she was actually allowed to eat. You weren’t even authorized to roam the corridor before six am – important people like Haymitch and Plutarch could, they were always coming and going at odd hours, but Effie’s security clearance wasn’t high enough for that, they trusted her to assist Plutarch but not to wander on her own in the middle of the night – there was nothing to do but wait.

So wait she did, leaving Haymitch to his slumber.

She was dressed and gone before he even had a foot out of the bed, feeling ill and irritated for all the wrong reasons. She still sat next to him at breakfast but only for the promised turnips. Given the dark looks some people were giving her, food sharing was probably a huge no-no; she couldn’t begin to care. The food soothed her nausea away but try as she might the gruel disgusted her and she couldn’t swallow more than two mouthfuls, she was certain that if she forced herself to eat it, it would come right out again. The smell alone made her want to gag. She pushed the small bowl Haymitch’s way which made him roll his eyes.

“Don’t complain to me later that you’re hungry.” he warned her, eating it in three spoonfuls.

“Oh, I don’t think I will be seeing you later.” she huffed, grabbing her empty tray and hurrying out the dinner hall. Heads turned on her wake but it wasn’t as flattering as it used to be; there was no admiration in their gaze, only contempt. She checked her wrist instinctively even though she knew her schedule by heart.

She was tasked with beginning filming propos about victors of each District with Finnick while Plutarch and Haymitch took care of the Mockingjay. Even though it had been her idea, she had been surprised to be granted so much responsibilities and happy at finally being in charge of something but then she had realized how difficult it would actually be to talk – and make _Finnick,_ who was barely standing on his feet, talk – about people she had known personally and who were all dead. She wasn’t in any hurry to start Chaff’s, Seeder’s, Cecelia’s or Mags’ propos.

The documentaries took all her time and focus during the next week which suited her just fine since she was still miffed at Haymitch’s lack of sensitivity and very much enjoyed watching him stare at her figure from the corner of her eyes every time he thought she wasn’t looking. It was sometimes good to remind him he shouldn’t have been taking her for granted and a sex strike was often the way to go. To add insult to injury, she only spoke to him concerning work-related topics and avoided being alone with him as much as possible.

Haymitch would never apologize, of course, not to _her_ anyway – that wasn’t in the nature of their relationship – but when he grabbed her arm on her way back from dinner almost nine days since the last time they had privately spoken, she didn’t resist being dragged to his room. He didn’t waste time with empty speeches, he pinned her to the door and kissed the breath out of her. They tore at each other’s clothes angrily, the door rattled with every move and she briefly wondered what people passing in front of his compartment must have been thinking. The thought was a fleeting one though because soon enough she wasn’t thinking _at all_.

“ _Teeth,_ sweetheart. Watch the teeth!” he half-hissed, half-grunted when she bit his neck a tad too passionately. “I’m not a bloody piece of meat.” She might have been too violent, she realized that even through the lust fogging her brain. The mark of her teeth was neatly visible. She kissed and licked the abused patch of skin. “ _Fuck_.” he grunted.

She tightened her legs around his waist. “Yes, dear, that’s an apt description although I don’t approve of your vulgarity.” It was meant to be mocking but he didn’t take the bait.

He tilted her chin up to get access to her throat. “I really don’t know why you turn me on so much, you’re a pain.”

She wasn’t sure if he said more or not because she was too far gone by that point. The only sound that she registered was the incessant rattling of her back hitting the wood.

She let him carry her to bed afterwards, utterly exhausted. He grumbled about her taking up all the space but it was more for show than anything else, it gave him an excuse to snuggle close and, for once, she felt truly happy.

“If I didn’t know better, I would think you missed me.” she mumbled sleepily, her face nuzzling the crook of his neck. She never heard his answer, she was already asleep.

It was his nightmare that woke her up. He was moaning quietly, his hands battling invisible enemies. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been but she knew she had to get out of the bed anyway before she got hurt or, worse, he opened his eyes and screamed at her for not walking away when he started thrashing. Waking him from his nightmares wasn’t as difficult as it used to be when he was drunk, she simply threw objects at him : her pillow, a pen, a towel and finally his pants after slipping on his shirt. The pants did it.

He sat up, startled, his hands were still flying around his head and his grey eyes were desperate. They held no flicker of recognition when they fell on her and Effie stood very still, afraid that he would lunge at her. During a long painful second, they both seemed to hold their breath. Then he blinked and the terror in his eyes was gone. He hunched as if someone had hit him and tossed the pen, towel and pants off the bed.

“Sorry.” he mumbled at last.

“It doesn’t matter.” she replied softly even though it _did_. It must have been close to dawn because now that she wasn’t concerned with his nightmares the hunger – and the nausea that went hand in hand with it – kicked in. She frowned when she felt a new discomfort settling in. “What did you do to my breasts?” She rubbed them but that only made it worse. They were sore and heavy and they _hurt_.

“I didn’t hear you complain earlier.” He rolled his eyes.

“I’m complaining now.” She climbed back into bed.

“You’re always complaining, Princess.” he snorted. They ended up spooning again, it was the easiest way to sleep on that bed – she added a decent sized bed to the list of things she couldn’t wait to go back to. “What’s wrong with them anyway?” There was a tinge of concern to his voice but when he brushed a hand against one of her breasts over the shirt, she almost gasped.

She whacked his hand away. “I don’t know. They’re very sensitive. I’m probably going to have my period.”

He grunted and buried his face in her neck. “You’re going to turn into a bigger bitch.”

She ignored him, trying to calculate but days tended to blur into one another in that place. Still… She didn’t quite like the conclusion she was reaching. She had been in Thirteen for about two months and she couldn’t remember having her period once. She had been so focused on Katniss and Peeta and adapting to life in that strange District that she hadn’t even realized – she blamed the temporary schedule on her wrist, she had been so busy following it that she had completely forgotten to check her own planner. She had always been fairly regular, that was odd. _Stress_ , she told herself before the prickle of panic she could feel spreading from her very core could fully bloom into outright terror, _nothing but stress_. It couldn’t be anything else and there was no point worrying about it.

She buried further into his chest and shut her eyes tight, forcing herself to relax. She was simply going to have her period, it explained the heavy breasts as well as her exhaustion and the strange urge to start crying in odd instances. It was all hormones.

“Language.” she chided him, a bit too late.

He simply tightened his arms around her, sliding a leg between hers and burying his face in her neck. He often wrapped himself around her like that to sleep. She wondered if it was comforting to him or if he was unconsciously attempting to protect her still. He did that a lot in Thirteen for all his claims that she had to fend for herself: he shielded her from the most nasty comments, he called out people who insulted her and he did his best to keep Coin off her back. The latest wasn’t very effective though, she still could feel the President breathing down her neck, waiting for her to make a mistake big enough that it would warrant exceptional punishment.

Over the next few days, her breasts remained painful, her nausea didn’t diminish and she sometimes started to cry for no good reason at all to everyone’s puzzlement. Haymitch said nothing but she knew he was torn between irritation and worry. _Worry_ was her predominant feeling, two more weeks and she still wasn’t having her period, her breasts were slightly bigger and she could feel the doubt nagging at her mind even though she _knew_ a pregnancy wasn’t a logical possibility. Another medical problem, more probably, but that wasn’t totally reassuring either.

The need to know what was happening to her body, to do something about it, was what made her approach Katniss’ mother in the hospital. The woman was always as nice as could be expected given the fact that Effie was the escort who reaped her daughters. Katniss’ fondness for her helped some but, Effie suspected, not much.

“Miss Trinket!” Mrs Everdeen exclaimed in surprise when she glimpsed her lurking on the threshold of the supply closet she was busy organizing. _Lurking_. Was that what she had come down to? Effie spared a thought for the over-confident cheerful escort who had never been afraid of trespassing on anything.

“Effie, please.” she corrected her as lightly as she could, forcing a bright smile on her lips. The smile hurt. “I’m afraid I’m in need of a favor.” That seemed to catch the woman’s attention because she frowned. “Do all medical exams have to go on record?”

Everything was recorded in Thirteen, down to the amount of toothpaste one used to brush their teeth. It was ridiculous in her opinion.

“Medical exams that involve supplies or tests, yes.” Katniss’ mother replied, placing down the plastic tubes she had in hand in a drawer and closing it before turning to her with an enquiring gaze. “Would that be a problem?”

Effie resisted the urge to rub her face. Even if there was no make-up there anymore, it wasn’t ladylike and her mother’s voice was raging in the back of her mind, telling her off about her general attitude. A lady smiled in every circumstance and dealt with her personal feminine problems discreetly and efficiently.

“I… Never mind.” She was sure the second her name was typed in one of their computer, Coin or one of her lackeys would jump on the file and everyone would know about it. Depending on what was wrong with her, she wasn’t sure she wanted to tell Haymitch. “I am utterly sorry, I fear I am imposing on your working time.”

Mrs Everdeen placed a hand on her arm before she could walk away. “I am due for a break.” Her blue eyes were calm and it eased some of Effie’s anxiety away. “Perhaps I can examine you. You might not need tests and it can stay between you and me.”

“Thank you.” she breathed out in pure relief. She didn’t even care that Katniss’ mother wasn’t a proper doctor and that she wouldn’t have dreamt of ever consulting a healer who wasn’t certified before she came to Thirteen. She trusted the healer more than she trusted any of that District’s doctors by that point.

Mrs Everdeen led her to a small room at the end of a corridor that was less busy with people in white coat. Effie had carefully chosen her time to visit the hospital. The schedule on her wrist read _12:30 lunch_ and it was the same for almost everyone.

“Good.” the woman said in a soft voice after Effie had hopped on the table. “What seems to be the problem?”

She listed her symptoms from the first apparition of the hunger induced bouts of queasiness to her aching breasts. Mrs Everdeen’s conclusion was so plainly written on her face, Effie almost started crying again in sheer nerves. She explained what she had been told when she was younger or, at least, what she remembered of it, how her ovaries weren’t working properly and needed regular checking. The healer felt her stomach, asked a lot of personal questions that made Effie blush and in the end pursed her mouth while she thought.

“A blood test would tell you for sure…” Katniss’ mother said. “But we never had those at home and I’ve seen enough pregnancies to know what they look like. You’re pregnant, Effie.”

“But _how_?” she cried out in dismay.

“I’m assuming this is a rhetorical question…” the healer joked but Effie wasn’t amused in the slightest.

“I can’t be.” she insisted. Her heart was hammering so hard in her chest, every thump felt as if it would break her ribcage. She felt dizzy. The room started spinning. She felt hot tears running down her cheeks. “I _can’t_ be.”

 _She couldn’t be pregnant without medical help_. She clung to that thought because it was easier than to think : _I can’t be pregnant in the middle of a war, stuck in a District where food is restricted and children prepped for the army before they’re fourteen. I can’t be pregnant when we could all die tomorrow. I can’t be pregnant when it would be so easy for Coin or Snow to rip the baby away from me and use it to hurt me. She simply couldn’t be._

“Effie. _Effie_. I need you to breathe.”

She barely registered Mrs Everdeen’s instructions or the gentle hands that prompted her to lie back down on the examination table. Black dots danced in front of her eyes.

“It can be.” she begged. “It must be a cyst or… or a growth… _Something_ _else_.”

A baby would be a catastrophe. She couldn’t take care of a baby. Not now. Not when she had Katniss to worry about and when Peeta was still lost to them. Not when she was barely more than a prisoner. Not when she was ill with concern over two children she loved like her own being used by two different sides in a war that, she felt, would result in nothing but the destruction of Panem.

“We’re going to do an ultrasound. I’ve seen them use the machine twice, I’m sure I can do it myself. It will tell us for sure.” the healer said quickly, brushing away blond strands of hair stuck to Effie’s cheeks by tears.

“I… I don’t want it on record.” Effie stammered. If she was really pregnant and Coin learned about it… She shuddered. “No one must know.”

Mrs Everdeen didn’t seem pleased by that but she relented when Effie moved as if she wanted to get off the table. “Alright. Just stay here and try to remember to breathe before you faint. I will… see what I can do.”

She waited while the healer sneaked an ultrasound device out of another room. She almost torn her shirt in her hurry to pull it up and let Mrs Everdeen rub a small amount of sticky gel to her stomach all the while praying that she wouldn’t see or hear anything. For a few seconds after the sensor touched her skin, she felt relieved because she couldn’t glimpse anything on the screen that remotely resembled a baby. Of course, that was when her brain kicked in to remind her a baby wouldn’t even _look_ like a baby at this point.

“Here.” Katniss’ mother said, pointing at a dark spot that couldn’t be bigger than a nut. “You’re pregnant.”

This time Effie felt no qualm in pressing her hands against her face as hard as she could. “It’s impossible.” she repeated. “It’s…”

“It’s very possible.” the healer said softly, gently prying her hands away from her face. “Look. He’s right here. This is a good thing, Effie.” It was absolutely _not_ a good thing. “Is it because of the father? Is he still in the Capitol?”

The father.

 _The father_.

The sound that escaped her throat was midway between a whine, a sob and a hysterical chuckle. _Haymitch_. How was she supposed to tell Haymitch his worst nightmare was coming true? How was she supposed to tell him that she would soon be adding to the collection of people he struggled to keep safe? How was she supposed to tell him that, soon enough, both Coin and Snow would have a pressure point on him?

And how could she do that to this innocent unborn baby?  

“What are my options in this District?” Her voice was flat. She tried to control the surge of emotions clashing in her chest. There was a peak of joy underneath it all but it was soon stifled by fear. Fear was overwhelming, oppressing and spreading to her whole being.

“If you’re talking about abortion, I would say none.” Mrs Everdeen’s voice had become harsher, as if she couldn’t quite understand how Effie could think like that. Perhaps she couldn’t. The woman was a mother and a District person. Effie was neither. “I could tell you what some women did in Twelve but I wouldn’t recommend it unless you wish to bleed to death.”

Bleeding to death was a more pleasant prospect than to tell Haymitch, she thought, which was soon followed by the realization she _couldn’t_ tell Haymitch. Not yet. Not while they were all in danger.

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” she whispered tiredly, grasping Mrs Everdeen’s hand.

The healer’s face softened again. “You won’t be able to keep it secret for long, Effie, I think you’re about seven weeks. We need to put it on record so they can adjust your food allotment. You will need to eat more and…”

“No.” she interrupted her very rudely. “I… No. _Please_.” She wasn’t above begging. Begging often had gotten her what she wanted in the past.

“You need to realize….” Katniss’ mother softened even more. “From what you told me about your medical history, this pregnancy is probably going to be difficult. You will need to eat more, they have prenatal vitamins here and their doctors would probably be more helpful than me. Let me find one for you now and…”

“No.” Effie refused straight-out, squeezing the hand she was still holding to the point of pain. “You don’t understand, I… Nobody must know.”

“People _will_ know.” the healer sighed quietly. “You will start to show soon.”

That was a nightmare. A pure nightmare.

“I don’t want them to know yet.” she amended. _Or ever_ , she mused thinking of what Haymitch’s reaction would be.

Probably sensing she wouldn’t give in, the healer pursed her mouth in disapprobation but then, she yielded. “Come back next week so I can check on you and come to me at any time if you’re in pain or if the sickness worsens.”

“Thank you.” She nodded gratefully and straightened her clothes. She glimpsed the flashing number on a clock in the corner and winced. She didn’t need to consult her schedule to know she was late and to a meeting in Command, no less.

“Effie.” Mrs Everdeen’s used a no-nonsense voice that, Effie thought, was the mark of a true mother. “Don’t do anything foolish and talk it out with me before you try anything… _drastic_.”

Like find another way to get rid of the baby? If stealing a roll of bread warranted an undetermined stay in a cell… What was the punishment for an illegal abortion? She put the thought out of her mind and hurried to Command.

She was greeted by grim faces and the war hit her right in the face again. It was everywhere, on every screen. She thought she recognized the still-smoking ruins of Three’s Justice Building, some screens showed different buildings in flames, others were focused on their own soldiers trying to battle through, the last ones were trained on the hovercraft marked with a Capitol sigil. Beetee’s shoulders were hunched over, his hand covering his mouth but he obviously couldn’t detach his eyes from the devastation. Coin had her hands so full shouting orders left and right she didn’t notice Effie sneaking in. Nobody did except Plutarch and Haymitch and they were both too busy to comment on her appearance.

The single good thing about war, Effie had found out, was that there was no time to wallow on your private life or your personal worries. They remained in Command for the longest time. Effie took notes, watching Coin, Boggs, Haymitch, Plutarch and Beetee debating ideas and shyly offering her own when she deemed it pertinent. Coin didn’t like it when she talked but she was used to discussing tactics with Haymitch during the Games and she had learned a lot throughout the years. Plus, when Plutarch was thinking like a Gamemaker, Effie was thinking like an average Capitol and it sometimes provided insight.

It was late at night when the fights in District Three finally died down without any side making any real dent in the other’s troops. They had missed dinner and, having already missed lunch, Effie was starving. Of course, when she asked if it would be possible for them to have some food even if it was after hours, everyone but Plutarch stared at her like she had grown two heads because there were more urgent concerns. Fortunately for her, Effie had actually been useful that day so Coin was leaning towards leniency, she waved her away instead of outright raging at her.

“You’re obsessed with food.” Haymitch snorted as they walked along the corridors. “I’ve never noticed before.”

“I’ve never been hungry before.” she snapped, wrapping her arms around her middle and then taking them away as if she had been burned. Pregnant women did that, didn’t they? Hold their stomach? The word hit her again, even in the privacy of her own head, slamming into her like a freight train. _Pregnant_.

“Better hungry than dead.” he replied, harsh and insensitive. She wasn’t sure he would have said the same thing if he knew because she was pretty sure once he learned about her new condition, he would regret not leaving her behind in the Capitol.

“I’m tired, I’m going to bed.” There was nothing else to answer anyway. She didn’t want another pointless fight.

He grabbed her wrist when she tried to take a corridor leading to the right. “Sleep at mine.”

She hesitated and then shook her head. “Not tonight.”

His grey eyes flashed with annoyance but then it was gone. He slept better when she was there, she knew that even if he had never said it out loud, but she was feeling the need for some alone time. Of course, she realized when she finally reached her compartment to find Cressida already ready for bed, even though she was quite lonely in that District, she was never actually _alone_.

Usually she would have appreciated the other woman’s chatter. It was good to be able to talk to another Capitol woman even if she was a rebel through and through but, that night, Effie had troubles conjuring her cheerful mask and her bright smile. Pretending was almost more than she could bear.

She dreamt. Nightmares were a recurrent thing since she had arrived in Thirteen. That world was bleak and the whole situation entirely too stressful but that dream was new and she woke up with a scream. Seeing the children or even Haymitch die in her nightmares wasn’t rare but seeing a toddler – that she simply knew was _hers_ – getting bombed into oblivion followed by Haymitch’s desperate accusation that _she_ should have looked after him better… She hadn’t been prepared for that.

She didn’t truly answer Cressida’s sleepy questions. She slipped out of bed and sneaked out of the room, not caring about the number of rules she was breaking. She was lucky, she didn’t meet anyone on her way down to Haymitch’s room level.

He propped himself on his elbow as soon as he heard the door opening and closing, not totally awake but never entirely asleep either. She glimpsed his frowning face in the light spilling from the corridor before she shut the door and the room became dark once more. She didn’t attempt to explain, she crawled on the bed, laid on his chest and buried her face in the crook of his neck. _Then_ she started sobbing.

He couldn’t understand what was happening but, to his credit, he didn’t ask any questions. He held her until she calmed down, petting her hair soothingly.

“Our kids will be alright.” he told her when she had no more tears to cry. “We will take care of Katniss and we will get Peeta back eventually.”

 _And what about the one you don’t know about?_ , she wanted to ask. She remained mute from fear and exhaustion. She focused on the regular rise and fall of his chest under her body, he played with her hair and she let her mind wander, unable to clear her head enough for sleep. She thought about a way to make it work and found none. In the end she just gave up. It was an accident. It was never supposed to happen. Mrs Everdeen had warned her that her medical problems would probably make it a difficult experience at best. Effie almost hoped it would simply be _too_ difficult. Accidents had a way of taking care of themselves, that was what her mother used to say. If it wasn’t meant to be, it wouldn’t. And it probably wouldn’t. She couldn’t understand how she had gotten pregnant in the first place. Soon enough, she would lose it. She felt it deep down : there was no point in getting attached or even worrying about it.

She wasn’t the kind of woman who buried her head in the sand on important matters but, for once, she chose the coward’s option and decided to simply stop thinking about it.

Except, as she found out over the course of the next days, there was no reprieve from thinking about it.

Everything was a constant reminder. The nausea – she refused to call it morning sickness – was less strong but still very much present around three am, she felt queasy around certain smells too and she could swear she would have actually been able to kill someone for some chocolate, her breasts were swollen, heavy and sensitive to the touch and, of course, there was the pouch. It was nothing remarkable, a simple bulge of fat to the untrained eye that stood out on her otherwise flat stomach. She didn’t know how she had missed that before, it sometimes felt as if it had appeared overnight.

She didn’t let Haymitch touch her anymore. Her body felt treacherous. She was certain he would notice the changes and put two and two together. He didn’t understand why she suddenly took her distances and refused to sleep with him even in the most innocent meaning of the term. She had no good explanation for him either. She didn’t know how to lie to him, she never quite got the hang of it.

Two weeks after she had found out, Effie was in full denial over the whole thing, pretending she was blind and didn’t see the changes in her body and spent her time trying to avoid both Haymitch and Katniss’ mother.

She had been so focused on _not_ thinking about it that it was quite a shock to enter Command one day with her notepad full of ideas for new propos only to find the room in total disarray again. It was a weird kind of disarray though. Beetee was furiously typing on a keyboard, the clicking of the keys the only sound troubling the silence. The screens were only showing destruction – Three again, she thought – and they could barely glimpse human shadows running left and right. Plutarch greeted her with a strained smile, Coin didn’t even look at her.

“Where is Haymitch?” she asked at once, seized by the kind of gut feelings she had learned to listen to over the years. His absence was not only odd but alarming. When he wasn’t taking care of the Mockingjay, Haymitch was always in Command for tactics and strategies.

Plutarch sighed and pushed a chair her way. “His hovercraft was shot down fifteen minutes ago, we lost contact with his team.”

She fell on that chair more than she sat down. Her escort persona took over before she could start babbling and sobbing hysterically, instead she managed a polite smile. “Hovercraft?”

Coin’s grey eyes turned to her. It was the wrong kind of grey, she couldn’t help but think, almost milky, too cold and too calculating.

“We needed a closer look at Three. The screens and maps are only so good on a tactical point of view.” Plutarch explained. “Boggs went with him. We lost communication.”

The racing of her heart was so loud in her own ears she was sure everyone could hear it. “Why wasn’t I notified?”

“Why should you be?” Coin asked coldly.

Plutarch’s hand touched her wrist under the table, a gentle sign for Effie to back down. She didn’t. “Is he alive?”

She tried her best to make the question sound detached but she failed. It was almost a plea.

“We’re trying to find out. Beetee is getting us back in contact.” Plutarch said. “The hovercraft didn’t explode when it crashed. It’s good news.”

Why did they have to send Haymitch?, she wanted to shout. Why couldn’t it have been Plutarch? Haymitch had no business going to the front lines. Haymitch was supposed to stay behind with her and help protect the children.

“What did you want?” Coin looked at her as if she was the lowest person in the whole world. She probably was to her. She slid her notepad over to the President who reviewed her entries about possibly shooting Katniss in Twelve with Gale. The woman’s reaction was a sharp nod. “Good. It’s acceptable. Arrange it.”

She probably meant at once but Effie remained right where she was, pretending to misunderstand and staring at Beetee who, probably sensing her distress, flashed her a quick smile. It took ten minutes before he managed to regain communication with the rebels in Three. Effie spent each of them counting the seconds and trying to ignore the cramps clenching her guts. _Stress_ , she told herself even when they finally, _finally_ got the communication back and Boggs confirmed both he and Haymitch were alive.

She breathed out so loud, Coin shot her a dark look.

The cramps didn’t disappear when the slow process of waiting for the missing men to come back began. She dismissed them, keeping busy by helping Plutarch as best as she could.

“Are you alright?” he asked repeatedly during the afternoon. “You look awfully pale.”

She joked about it each time and remained glued to his side, afraid they wouldn’t allow her access to the hovercraft landing ground unless she was with him. The Gamemaker was only happy to grant her request when they were finally told the rescue ship was about to land and she found herself shifting her weight from one feet to another very impatiently while a flood of injured rebels were rolled out on gurneys or wheelchairs.

It was almost anticlimactic to see Haymitch and Boggs walk out on their own two feet. She probably shouldn’t have launched herself at him – not that she had been thinking very clearly. The second she saw him, she ran and threw her arms around his neck, letting out something that sounded like a sob. She managed to keep herself collected but it was difficult. He embraced her back tentatively.

“ _Never do that again_.” she hissed in his ear.

“Sweetheart, you’re hurting me.” he replied and she finally let go, noting the stiff way he was holding himself. Bruised, she thought. Bruised but _alive_. His cheeks were slightly flushed and she realized, bemused, that he was embarrassed. Plutarch and Boggs were talking louder than necessary and very much _not_ looking at them but they were both sporting knowing smirks.

She couldn’t even begin to care.

“What were you _thinking_?” Now that the relief had settled in, she realized she was furious. “You’re not a soldier, you’re not fit to go on the battlefield. You’re… You’re… _old._ And you didn’t even tell me you were leaving. What if something had happened? You didn’t even say _goodbye_. Have you no manners at all? Not the slightest tinge of respect for me? You don’t treat your friends like that, Haymitch, _you just don’t_.”

He seemed taken aback for a second but then his face hardened into irritation. “Sorry, Trinket, I think you forgot you’re not my escort anymore. I don’t need your permission for shit.”

“Vulgarity is your answer to everything.” she cringed. “You could have _died_. Do you even realize that?”

“Since I was in the hovercraft that crashed, yeah, I think I know that better than you.” he mocked.

“Don’t worry, Miss.” Boggs laughed, trying to diffuse the sudden tension. It would have been hard for Plutarch and him to pretend not to hear the argument when they were standing right there. “I will _never_ take him out in the field again. He’s worse than Everdeen.”

It wasn’t the point.

She shook her head sadly, averting her eyes. “You just don’t care at all, do you?” She felt ridiculous all of a sudden. How big a fool she must have looked… Pining after him all day, worrying sick about a man who couldn’t even bother to let her know he was leaving for a dangerous mission, throwing herself in his arms like she meant anything more to him than access to easy sex… Her face flushed crimson and, once again, she lamented the loss of make-up that would have shielded her a little from the men’s pitying gazes. Plutarch’s was especially hard to bear because it was far too understanding. “Please, excuse me.”

She turned around and left without another word. She didn’t go back to the shooting studio or the remaking room even though her schedule read _work_. Let them arrest her, she wasn’t sure she truly would mind at that point. She was starting to understand why Katniss had developed a fondness for hiding behind pipes or in supply closets when she first arrived in Thirteen. Effie was a bit too old for closets though so she contented herself with her room – empty for once – and inelegantly flopped on the bed like she would never have done hadn’t she been alone.

She wasn’t feeling very well. The cramps were still there and they felt… _odd_. She was hot too. And, of course, she was also sad which didn’t help in the slightest. She curled up on her side and tried to breathe slowly through the pain, wishing it would ease down.

She didn’t know how long she remained like that but when she heard the door opening, she closed her eyes and hoped Cressida would leave her be. After all, neither of them were supposed to be in their compartment in the middle of the day.

The bed dipped behind her and a strong arm wrapped around her stomach, flattening her against a man’s chest. Tears burned her eyes but she blinked them away. She hadn’t expected him to come.

“Plutarch said you worried a lot.” He nuzzled her neck gently. “I’m fine, Princess.”

“You should have told me you were leaving.” she sniffled.

“Next time I will.” he sighed, redrawing the line of her jaw with soft kisses. His stubble prickled her skin.

“There won’t be a next time.” she snapped. “You can’t go on front lines, Haymitch. You’re not a soldier.”

There was a silence and then he let out another sigh – an annoyed one that time, either because he knew she was right or because he felt she was meddling – and then resumed kissing every inch of skin he could find. His hand slid under her shirt and went straight to her bra. She turned her head when he dropped a kiss at the corner of her mouth, responding to his invitation with a kiss of her own. Her fingers tangled in his hair and she urged him closer, rolling on her back. Everything was fine until the pain came back sharp like a knife stab. She groaned in his mouth – which he misinterpreted and pinned her further to the mattress.

She pushed him away instinctively but it was too violent and the bed was too narrow, he overbalanced and, during the short second before he fell, she saw the flicker of surprise and alarm on his face. He remained on the floor longer than he usually would have with a grunt of pain of his own. She supposed he had lived through enough crashes for one day.

“What’s gotten into you?” he growled, sitting up carefully and rolling his shoulder a few times.

“Nothing.” she lied. “I am simply not in the mood.”

“You’ve been _not in the mood_ a lot lately.” he snorted bitterly. “If you want to stop our arrangement, you can simply say it, sweetheart.”

She stood up slowly, hoping walking around would help ease the cramps. It didn’t. The only result was an onslaught of dizziness that left her breathless.

“Arrangement?” she managed to croak anyway. “Is that what we are?”

She grabbed the dresser in an attempt to remain upright. It worked and didn’t work all at once. The room was spinning, sounds echoed as if distorted… Suddenly Haymitch was standing again and pacing the room angrily but she couldn’t remember when he got up. He was talking but nothing truly made sense. She placed a hand on the slight bulge of fat on her stomach. A freezing wave of panic washed upon her but it was different this time. She wasn’t panicking because of the baby but because she thought she might very well have been losing it or was on her way to at least.

“Haymitch…” She wasn’t sure she pronounced it correctly. She was fighting to remain on her feet, she slumped against the dresser. It felt as if heavy weights were pushing on her shoulders, as if she was slowly sinking underwater… “Something’s wrong.”

She meant with the baby but he had no way to know that. He stopped his pacing right in front of her, a sneer on his face. “Something’s _always_ wrong with you. You’re the worst…” Then he stopped talking and grabbed her arms to guide her to the bed, his eyebrows furrowing together in worry. “You’re white as a sheet. Sit down.” He pressed a hand to her forehead and then to her cheek. She wobbled left and right, she felt weak as a kitten. Black spots were dancing in front of her eyes. “Effie, talk to me. You’re scaring me. Effie.”

That was the last thing she heard before she toppled sideway. Her name.

“ _Fuck._ Effie!”

She tried to remind him to not be always so vulgar but her mouth wouldn’t comply.

Then the whole world faded to black.


	2. Chapter 2

Haymitch’s finger relentlessly tapped against the side of Effie’s hospital bed.

Saying that he wasn’t freaking out would have been a lie. She had been so weird lately… He had put her behavior on her being… _Effie_ but… When she had collapsed earlier he had been truly afraid. She had regained consciousness just as he was carrying her through the hospital doors and had immediately tried to protest but he hadn’t wanted to hear anything. He had told doctors to run tests and to find out what was wrong with her because he was starting to suspect that her recurrent nausea had nothing to do with hunger at all.

She might have been ill.

Healthy people didn’t wake up every night because they felt sick even when they were hungry. Healthy people didn’t faint without any good reason. Healthy people didn’t look as desperate as she had recently.

His eyes studied her but she didn’t notice the staring. Her face was turned away from him, she was looking straight at the wall, uncharacteristically silent. He wondered what was going on inside her head, if she was worried or if she already knew what was wrong and had simply neglected to tell him. He wouldn’t put it past her. She had odd ideas about what protecting people meant; for all her flaws she had a golden heart and she’d rather worry about her loved ones than let them worry about her.

Her hand wasn’t terribly far from his own but it could have been miles away for all the good it did him because he didn’t dare reach for it.

Was she scared? He was. Terrified even. He kept thinking that someone would come back and tell them she was dying. He couldn’t shake the morbid thought away. He always ended up losing people he cared about – it was a miracle Katniss was still alive at that point but the girl was resilient, she was like dandelion, it would take a lot to kill her, Effie on the other hand…

“You’re okay?” he asked. It was a stupid question but she had always made him do stupid things.

“Fine.” she replied flatly, without any of the usual bubbly cheer. She didn’t look fine. A tear rolled down her cheek and she placed a hand on her stomach. She didn’t look in pain but…

He was about to suggest calling in a nurse to check on her again when the doctor – and seriously _how young_ were those doctors in Thirteen? That guy barely seemed older than Katniss – who had examined her earlier came back in the room, still perusing her file.

“You took your sweet time, didn’t you?” Haymitch grumbled at once.

The fact that Effie didn’t even try to tell him off for being rude finished to convince him she was feeling very sick.

“I’m sorry, sir, we had to wait for the tests results.” the doctor said. If he was disturbed by Haymitch’s aggressiveness, he didn’t show it. “I have good news and less good news.”

Effie didn’t react which made the guy frown. Without a doubt, he expected them to play along with his suspense act but Haymitch had experienced enough emotions for the day and he wasn’t an enthusiast about surprises anyway. “What’s wrong with her?”

This time, the doctor smiled with indulgence. “You wife is…”

“He’s not my husband.” Effie cut him off.

The doctor checked his file again quickly and winced. “Oh, I see. Well… Your _partner_ ’s body is simply weakened by the pregnancy. Congratulations!”

That stupid man beamed at them happily and Haymitch wanted nothing more than to sit down. It took him at least ten seconds to realize he _was_ alreadysitting down.

“Sorry… What?” He blinked very quickly, wondering if whatever Effie had was contagious because he, too, felt quite dizzy all of a sudden. Nausea, hot flashes… He experienced it all in the space of ten seconds.

“You’re pregnant!” the man repeated with his irritatingly cheerful voice.

Haymitch wanted to punch him.

“I didn’t lose it?” Effie asked quietly, almost tentatively.

And Haymitch’s anger found another target very fast. He turned his head to stare at her, there was no stunned expression on her face, no panic in her blue eyes, nothing at all that indicated that the information was new to her.

“No, not at all.” the doctor shook his head, going back to being serious. “But we will need to monitor you closely. You will have to check in once a week, at least. We will need to adjust your food allotment and I will prescribe you some vitamins. That was my _less good_ news. Your uterus is a bit hostile, the pregnancy might get rocky at some point. I’m concerned about your body’s response…”

He started talking about what she should or shouldn’t do but Haymitch didn’t hear any of it. His ears were ringing until they simply _popped_ like they did when he wandered too deep in Thirteen’s belly. His chest tightened to the point he was sure he couldn’t ever take another breath again and yet his heart was hammering like it wanted to break out.

“How long?” he snapped, cutting the doctor off. Effie wasn’t listening anyway, she had gone back to that apathetic staring that unsettled him so much.

The doctor seemed taken aback by the hostility but he checked the file again. “She is around nine weeks I think. We need to do further tests to determine exactly…”

“You, _shut_ _up_. She understood me.” he growled, his grey eyes riveted on her. How long had she known? Because she clearly did. And she had left him worrying himself sick for the past hour without once telling him she wasn’t actually ill.

“A few weeks.” Effie whispered, closing her eyes either in shame or guilt.

Around the time she had started pushing him away then. It had started so slowly, he hadn’t realized it at first : insisting on keeping her shirt on when they had sex, spending more and more nights in her own room instead of his, the litany of ready-made excuses to avoid his kisses or his wandering hands – _I have a headache, I’m not in the mood, I’m worried about the children –_ and he had swallowed each one of them because _he trusted her_. His mistake, obviously. Never trust a Capitol.  

“And you didn’t tell me because?” he prompted with a sneer. She didn’t answer, she simply bit her lower lip. “Oh, come on, Trinket… You always have a good explanation. You always want the last word. Here’s your chance.” Still, she remained silent. “No? Answer this, then: who’s the father?”

And out it was, the sickening feeling of betrayal he had been harboring ever since he’d heard the news. He could almost feel the burning stab of a knife between his shoulder blades.

_Nine weeks_. Nine weeks meant she had been having sex with someone else in Thirteen. Who? The jealousy was overwhelming and took him a little by surprise. He was a possessive man, it was in his nature, but he hadn’t been aware he was a jealous one too. Not to that extent. He wanted to find the guy who had knocked her up and knocked _him_ off – preferably by bashing his head against the wall. The urge to hurt, kill and even destroy was strong. Never piss off a victor, he thought nastily.

“Do not be a jerk, Haymitch, please.” Effie sighed. “Not right now.”

“You sneaked off with someone else behind my back and _I_ ’m the jerk?” He couldn’t help but laugh. It was a broken laugh, a little mad too probably. “How does that work, sweetheart?”

“Oh, dear…” the doctor muttered, obviously embarrassed. “Maybe I…”

“Even if I did, we only have an arrangement not a relationship or am I mistaken?” she hissed, sending back into his face the words he had uttered only a few hours earlier. He couldn’t even deny them because they had never explicitly set any sort of rules. They had never said they were exclusives, they had never said they were done with the casual sex thing, they had never… But it had been years since Haymitch had been with another woman and he had assumed she was doing the same thing on her side.

He didn’t even know if he was more disappointed or hurt. He didn’t even know why he felt that way. What did he care about Effie Trinket?

He shook his head and stood up. His legs felt like jelly.

“It’s yours.” Effie hurried out when she saw him up. “I swear. I haven’t been with anyone else for a long time and certainly not in this dreadful place. Who do you want me to have sex with? Plutarch?”

It was probably meant as a joke but Haymitch narrowed his eyes. “Is it Plutarch?”

Because if it was… Oh, if it was… The Gamemaker didn’t stand a chance. He would snap his neck.

A part of him was absolutely terrified by what was going through his head. It was the part that belonged to the sixteen years old who hadn’t stepped in the arena yet, it was the part that was still untainted by his victims’ blood and unaware of what he was capable of when he was threatened.

“Don’t be preposterous.” she huffed. “I didn’t cheat on you. This is _your_ child.” She put a hand on her stomach to emphasize her point. It terrified him even more than his murdering urges.

“What’s the point of lying?” he snorted “I can’t have kids, sweetheart. You were right there when they told me.” He pointed at the doctor who squirmed in embarrassment. The poor guy probably wanted nothing more than to flee the room and Haymitch couldn’t blame him.

“Yes, I was there and I heard that the chances were _slim_.” she shot back. “And they obviously weren’t _that_ slim.” She spared a glare for the doctor. “This is all your fault anyway, not theirs.”

“ _My_ fault?” His eyes widened. “How is this my fault if you got yourself pregnant? Blame the father.”

“ _You_ are the father and I swear I am not a violent person but if you doubt me another time I will strangle you.” she shouted, forgetting all about how a lady never raised her voice. It meant she was really furious. He knew that because it usually led to an epic fight that often ended in bed. Not on that day, though. “When did I ever lie _to_ _you_?”

“Apparently all the time for the last weeks.” he mumbled but he sat down again. Because it _was_ true. She usually was pretty honest with him to the point of bluntness. She had never felt any issues in telling him precisely how bad he smelled or how utterly despicable he was when drunk…

“I knew how you would react and I’m not exactly thrilled myself in case you didn’t notice.” Her voice was back to normal, irritating accent and all. She sounded dejected and scared. He was stunned now because the fact that she was more than likely telling the truth was sinking in. He forgot to be angry to plunge right into being terrified and he could almost understand why she had kept that to herself. It was upsetting in every way it could be. And she _did_ know him. No wonder she had looked so desperate all the time…

“I can’t have kids.” he repeated. He didn’t know if it was a statement about his general position on children or a fact.

“I’m not supposed to be able to either.” Effie’s face crumpled in anguish. “I don’t understand how this happened.”

“Well… If I may?” the doctor cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at them. “Neither of you is actually sterile so the treatment would have corrected the unbalance. It’s still lucky you managed to get pregnant at all but it isn’t as impossible as you both make it sound.”

“Lucky?” Haymitch spat. “How is that lucky?” He turned to Effie, about to suggest they didn’t have to keep it at all and ask for a safe way to terminate the pregnancy; the words remained stuck in his throat. He couldn’t. They had killed enough kids – and of course, people could argue that it wasn’t a baby _yet_ but, there they were, discussing that child and it was very _real_ ; it felt like a kid to him already – he couldn’t add his own to the list. Then his brain changed course and finally registered the doctor’s words. “What treatment?”

Effie was frowning too.

“The fertility treatment?” the doctor replied, looking at both of them in turn. He seemed puzzled by their general reactions. People must usually have been leaping in joy when they were told they were expecting in that place.

“I never took anything.” Effie was quick to defend herself because Haymitch’s eyes were staring at her again.

“You both did.” the doctor countered. “I mean… It’s in your file, Miss. I’m not actually sure for you, sir, but given your age, you would still be in the range.”

Something cold washed down on him from Haymitch’s head to his toes. “What are you talking about?”

It was easier to focus on that than on the actual problem.

“The… The food.” the man stuttered. “It’s no secret that Thirteen’s birth rates are low and that in hope of increasing those, people in age of producing children are given food treated with a fertility…” The doctor actually squealed and stepped back until his back was against the wall when Haymitch advanced on him. “Security!”

It wasn’t loud enough to be heard and his next call died down when Haymitch wrapped his hand around his throat. “You doped us?! Without our consent?! What are we?! _Fucking_ incubators?!”

“Haymitch.” Suddenly, Effie was right there, in her ridiculous hospital blouse, her hand on his arm. “Let him go.” He didn’t want to let him go, he wanted to squeeze until someone paid for the distress he felt and the disastrous situation they were in. She tugged harder on his arm. “Haymitch, if you kill him they will kill you and I am _not_ taking care of this alone. It’s not even his fault.” Their eyes met and she leaned against him slowly. “Please, I’m still feeling dizzy.”

He let go.

The doctor coughed and heaved in the most dramatic way. Haymitch rolled his eyes.

“You’re completely _nuts_.” the guy managed to rasp out.

“Oh, you haven’t seen me going nuts, yet.” he chuckled. He pushed the guy aside, completely ignoring Effie’s calls to come back. He dashed through the hospital, only pausing once when his path crossed Finnick’s. “Effie’s down there. Sit with her and don’t let her out of your sight.”

The younger victor wasn’t totally right in the head anymore but he recognized the urgency in Haymitch’s voice and simply nodded.

He wasn’t aware of much on his way from the hospital to Command. With each step he took, his fury increased. He felt like a man possessed.

The doctor must have alerted security because people in Command were obviously ready for him. Boggs was standing in front of Coin who remained sitting, her back perfectly straight, and Plutarch rushed to him as soon as he stepped inside.

“I don’t know what’s going on but I suggest you calm down at once.” the Gamemaker whispered.

Haymitch did everything except _calm down_.

“Who do you _think_ you are ?” he shouted at Coin, walking closer to her. He didn’t hit women as a rule but for once, perhaps, he would make an exception. Boggs tensed, a hand on the gun at his hip, and Plutarch swiftly placed himself between them, a hand firmly planted on Haymitch’s chest. Twelve’s victor whacked it away. “Did you know about this? Did you know she breeds babies like we’re nothing but cattle?”

Plutarch opened and closed his mouth several times and then glanced over his shoulder at the President. “I don’t follow.”

“We have a duty to produce children.” Coin said calmly. “We are facing extinction. Thirteen’s residents are well aware of this reality which is the reason why contraception isn’t needed in our District.”

“We are _not_ Thirteen’s residents and we are _not_ under any obligation to produce children!” he retorted, trying to push Plutarch away to get to her. The Gamemaker held his ground though, there was no stepping around him. “Duty, _my ass!_ What about those of us who don’t want kids, _what about those people_?”

“They should refrain from having sexual intercourses.” Coin shrugged. “A little control is never amiss. You might do good to remember that yourself, Haymitch.”

“Control?” he chuckled. “I will give you control…”

The closest thing to his left hand was a rolling chair. Watching it smash against the wall was a relief. “I _never_ wanted kids.” He grabbed another chair and threw that one as well. He was conscious that Plutarch was now holding Boggs at bay, whispering urgently about stress and possible triggers and things he couldn’t even be bothered to listen to. “Kids _die_.” He flung the papers off the table, broke a few screens… There was something beautiful in destroying everything he could. The rage and fury were channeled instead of simply seething through his veins. It was less dangerous.

Someone grabbed him – a soldier, he reckoned – but Haymitch tossed him aside easily. Then there was another and another… Those ones had syringes, to drug him some more probably.

He might have been only a washed-up victor but he was a victor still and they had trouble overpowering him. Boggs ordered the soldiers to go easy on him while Plutarch protested the armed response but Coin… Coin just sat there watching with unnerving unwavering eyes and, for a second, Haymitch didn’t know which President was in front of him : Coin or Snow?

He put on a good fight but, finally, he felt the sharp prickle of a syringe at the back of his neck and the quick sedative took effect immediately. He fell on one knee, defeated for more than one reason.

“If this one dies, it’s on you.” he muttered but he was sure she heard him. She was looking straight at him. “And I will make you pay.”

He fought the drug as long as he could but he didn’t last more than a couple of seconds before he collapsed.

When he woke up, he was in a confinement cell. His hands were chained to the wall, his ribs were hurting – obviously some people didn’t have any problem with kicking an unconscious man – and he had a nasty taste in his mouth. The cell was soundproof, the only noise he could hear was his own difficult breathing. He didn’t know how long he remained laying on the cold hard ground. A voice in the back of his head was urgently whispering he should be panicking or feeling trapped but he wasn’t feeling much of anything at all. The drugs were still in his body and he couldn’t even remember why he had been so angry in the first place. Everything felt unimportant.

He clung to the feeling – or the lack, rather – as long as he could.

He felt sorry when the drugs finally stopped working and the onslaught of emotions came back step by step. The anger was still there of course but it was surpassed by something a lot more powerful : dread. He was desperate for a drink.

Hours passed and he didn’t move a finger, he laid there and pretended to be dead. Things would have actually been easier if he were, he mused.

When the door opened on Plutarch, he wasn’t particularly glad. He would have been happy to remain in the cell a while longer.

“You’re lucky.” Plutarch said. “I managed to calm Coin down.”

“Luck has always been my best friend.” he deadpanned when the Gamemaker kneeled down to unlock his hands. Haymitch didn’t do anything to help with that either. He had been on a killing spree less than a few hours ago. Who was to say he wouldn’t go back to that state again and try to hurt his escort? “Effie’s pregnant.”

“Yes, I know.” Plutarch shook his head. “With the shouting you did, the whole District knows by now. It helped convince Coin you hadn’t gone mad without reason. She didn’t plan for that to happen if it’s any consolation.” He stayed silent for a while, obviously waiting for Haymitch to pick himself from the floor. When that didn’t happen, he sat down but not without a lot of cringing at being forced to sit on the ground. _Capitols_. Maybe it was the reek though, Haymitch thought, he could smell himself and it wasn’t good. “You’ve been in confinement for almost two days. They let Effie out of the hospital this morning. She’s fine for now but it seems the pregnancy will be a difficult one.”

“Of course it will.” he snorted. When had anything been easy for them?

“They wanted her on bed rest.” Plutarch continued. “She refused.”

“Sounds like her.” he commented flatly. He couldn’t see Effie confined to a bed for months. She would go nuts.

“You don’t plan on marrying her by any chance?” the Gamemaker asked. The tone was playful so it was probably a joke. “A wedding would do wonders for…”

“Shut up.” he warned.

Plutarch had become a friend, sort of, but the only person he really wanted to talk to at that second was Chaff. He missed Chaff. Chaff had taken him under his wing after what had happened to his family and he had always given him good advices. Chaff would have known what to do or, at least, he would have sympathized and poured him drinks until Haymitch forgot what was bothering him in the first place.

He missed Chaff.

“It could be worse.” Plutarch sighed.

“No, it couldn’t.” he replied. He had been so _mad_ when he thought she had cheated on him… But now, he almost wished she had because, then, that baby wouldn’t be _his_ responsibility.

“Are you planning on getting up anytime soon?” The Gamemaker was clearly done sitting on the floor.

“No.” He should have gotten points for honesty, Haymitch thought. “Except if you have a secret stash of liquor somewhere.”

Plutarch rolled his eyes. “President Coin paid a visit to Effie earlier.”

That made him sit up and _fast_. “Did she threaten her?” Was Effie to pay the price for his own reckless behavior? What had he been _thinking_ openly menacing Coin?

The answer was an easy one of course : _he_ _hadn’t_.

“She offered her congratulations. Read what you want into that.” Plutarch said. “Pregnant women are untouchable in this District, she can’t do anything to her. It would be a difficult thing to do anyway given that Finnick and Katniss have been glued to Effie’s side since yesterday. When I left they were all laughing very loudly in the dining hall and making a good job at pretending to be over the moon with joy.” Good, he thought, people resented her enough as it was, they didn’t need to think she was heartless or hated kids or whatever bullshit good-thinkers would spread around without knowing anything about the situation. “Pregnant with your child and under the Mockingjay’s protection… She knows how to charm people. If she plays her cards right, she will be Thirteen’s darling before too long.”

He rubbed his face and finally got to his feet with a sigh. “What else did I miss?”

“A propos with Johanna. We kept it from Katniss and Finnick.” he replied. “No news about Peeta.”

Plutarch briefed him about the situation in Three – finally under control – while they walked to the upper levels. The dining hall was almost deserted and no one bothered them for which Haymitch was grateful because he truly didn’t know how he would have reacted if someone had congratulated him.

It was after lights out when he got back to his room. He froze when he found her sitting on his bed, hugging her legs close to her chest. He didn’t even bother closing the door, he held it wide open. “I’m tired, sweetheart, I don’t want to argue right now.”

“I don’t want to argue, I think we should talk.” she replied quietly.

“A talk between you and me always ends up in a fight.” he snorted and then shook his head. He wanted a shower and some rest, even though he knew the latter would be impossible – at best he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, at worst, he would have nightmares and he wasn’t impatient to discover what kind of horrors his subconscious would create. “Look, Trinket, I have a war to win, I can’t focus on that right now.”

“ _That_ is our child.” she snapped.

_Our child_. The words hit him straight in the plexus.

“There’s nothing to talk about anyway.” he continued, ignoring her.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear nervously. “So we ignore the problem? Because it didn’t work so well for me, Haymitch. It’s not going away. I’m afraid of it staying and I’m also afraid of actually losing it. I’m lost and scared and…”

Her blue eyes kept darting left and right, unfocused and clearly panicked. Haymitch couldn’t take it. He had his own panic to take care of.

“And nothing changed.” he cut her off. “My priorities are Katniss, Peeta and the war. You come after that. That’s an accident. Do whatever you want to do but leave me out of it.”

She recoiled as if he had slapped her. She opened her mouth and he thought she was going to scream but then she simply closed it and crawled out of his bed to walk out the room slowly, dejectedly. She paused when she passed in front of him. He waited for her to say something, accuse him of being the worst asshole Panem ever saw perhaps – he couldn’t quite deny her that – but she resumed walking.

He closed the door behind her, feeling nothing but disgust at his own behavior.

She was hurting and he hated that.

But he couldn’t deal with her being pregnant. _He couldn’t_.

He wasn’t particularly surprised when Katniss cornered him the next day. The girl must have put some work in hunting him down because he had been very careful about staying out of everyone’s way. One thing he loved about Katniss was that she rarely tip-toed about the real topic.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

No judgment about not-standing by Effie – and he was sure that, by now, most people in Command must have known about that – no fake congratulations, no suggestions to try and see the inexistent silver lining…

“No.” he replied just as honestly.

Katniss nodded and hugged him without any other questions. It was the first time he felt she had truly forgiven him for leaving Peeta behind and he decided to forgive her as well. There was too much _shit_ happening all around to hold grudges.

The hug didn’t do any wonder for his general mood but it was nice to know someone understood because, as he found out during the next few days, she was probably the only one.

He avoided Effie, simply glimpsing her was a constant reminder and he still couldn’t deal with it. It was too much. The fear of having another family to lose, the fact that it meant he and Effie would remain linked forever, the idea that soon enough there would be a tiny human being depending on him for safety, guidance and affection… He would never be able to do it. He would fail. He would lose them.

Effie seemed to understand his need for space because she never looked him in the eyes and always left Command when he entered the room. One time she brushed her hand against his when she passed by him, he squeezed it and she gave him a small smile but that was the complete extent of exchanges they had for days.

She looked awful. She was always pale, there were bags under her eyes and her hair hung limply around her face, the usually bouncy shiny curls were flat and drab, she moved as if she was eighty instead of thirty-six. The energetic woman he knew had disappeared.

Haymitch wasn’t a favorite at the moment. Coin hadn’t mentioned his breakdown but it was clear she was annoyed with the drama surrounding him, Plutarch kept hinting that maybe he should have a word with Effie at the very least to convince her to rest more than she currently was, Finnick had always sported a soft spot for his escort and was clearly not understanding Haymitch’s problems, Cressida gave him black looks each time she met him and the others were either uncomfortable or judging.

The pregnancy was never actually addressed in public until one day, before a meeting, when Coin took one look at Effie fluttering around the room, handing out papers and finally snapped at her to go get some sleep.

“I want to help.” Effie objected.

“You won’t help anyone if you miscarriage right in the middle of Command.” the President retorted. “Go lie down before you collapse.”

It was funny, Haymitch thought, how no one around the room even thought it could be an act of kindness on the woman’s part. She was probably worried about Effie fainting being a distraction or something.

“But…” Effie frowned.

She looked even more awful than usual and Haymitch didn’t need Plutarch’s pointed staring to get out of his chair, grab her arm and tug her in the corridor where they could talk unheard. “You look like shit, sweetheart.”

“Always the charmer.” she hissed, rubbing her stomach.

You could barely see the slight budge. Haymitch pretended he couldn’t. “What are you trying to do? Exhaust yourself to death?”

“You were pretty clear on how much that would affect you.” Effie replied. “I’m doing what I want and leaving you out of it, wasn’t this what you wished for? I want to work. I want _to_ _help_.”

She looked at the end of her tether. Her eyes were wide and bright, her hands fluttered around to illustrate her point just like they did when she was completely done with a subject… He knew her so well, he realized, he even knew the slight crease on her brow was from frustration at being shut out. He brushed a hand against her cheek, trying not to get hurt by her surprised intake of breath.

“Go lie down for a few hours.” he asked again, softly. “Please.”

Her mouth pursed in an irritated line. “Fine. But for the record, you being all… caring, that’s _cheating_.” She huffed and then walked away. He mentally noted to ask someone to check on her later.

As it turned out, there was no _later_.

There was only a live interview with Peeta that turned to hell and a loud alarm that made everyone run to the shelters. He wanted to go for Effie but Plutarch didn’t let him, arguing that if everyone went looking for their family it would be chaos and that she would meet him down there.

Except there was no slipping away to make sure she had made it once they were in the shelters. Coin was barking orders left and right, there was too much to do and too few people to do it. Plutarch was sent to warn Katniss about acting as an example people could follow but Haymitch was simply too busy helping Beetee to be spared.

He was still in the newly and hastily set-up Special Defense when the first bomb hit and all he could think about was Effie. Not Peeta, not Katniss… Just Effie.

Logically, he knew that if she had been missing, someone would have reported it by now but it didn’t stop him from worrying. It took hours before rounds were finally organized and some of them were sent to bed.

He didn’t go to his assigned space, he hurried to hers. The top bunk bed was empty, Cressida had probably gone to see Messala, but Effie was curled up on the lowest one. He didn’t have to check his watch to know what time it was. She was obviously feeling nauseated like she always did around three in the morning – how stupid had he been to put that on her being unfamiliar with hunger? – her eyes were open but unfocused. She looked miserable.

He was about to step away to get some sleep himself when a new missile hit. That one was the worst by far. The lights went off and the emergency ones didn’t kick in. Everything shook. The walls, the ceiling, the ground under his feet. Haymitch fell on his ass. People screamed in fear everywhere around him.

It had been the worst hit yet and he was almost sure the missile had taken out a good portion of the shelter.

“Effie!” he screamed, standing up and trying to get to her bunk bed. He went unheard amidst the other calls for help or for a loved one. His imagination was already conjuring the picture of a gaping hole where she had just been. It was in that second of panic that he realized there was a difference between not wanting to lose someone and not being able _to bear_ losing someone.

He didn’t want to lose Chaff, but he had lost him and he still had survived.

Effie, now…

Suddenly, it all made sense. Why he couldn’t accept the idea of leaving her behind even though Plutarch had assured him several times that she would probably be safer in the Capitol, his half-cooked excuses about Katniss needing her escort, the contentment when he fell asleep with her in his arms, the steady craving for her skin that almost rivaled the one he felt for liquor, the way he missed her when he didn’t see her for too long…

The baby was a complication, that was true, but Effie… He wasn’t prepared to let go of her because of that.

When the lights flickered on again, there was no gaping hole, no torn flesh and no corpses. Only very frightened people with minor cuts. Effie was still where he had last seen her, curled up on her bed, but now her eyes were closed and she was clutching the sheet tight between her fingers.

He walked up to her as if in a daze. She startled when he sat down next to her, in the small space between her knees and the edge of the bed, only to relax when she saw it was him.

“Did you eat?” he asked. She nodded but curled up further. “I will get you something else.”

He hadn’t had dinner yet so they might accept to feed him but he didn’t think they would let him give her his share. He was devising ways to get away with it when she grabbed his arm, preventing him from going in search of food.

“It doesn’t matter, I will only be sick. Food is wasted on me.” She tried for a brave smile but it came out a little pathetic.

“Isn’t this sickness thing supposed to pass at some point?” He was aware that it was ridiculous to talk about that right then, when people were running left and right around her bunk bed and soldiers were ordering people to stay calm and to remain in their assigned place.

It was chaos, time to panic, and there he and Effie were, finally discussing the elephant in the middle of the room.

“Not when your body isn’t thrilled about having a tiny human in his belly.” she joked but it fell flat. “Lucky me.” He reached for her hair tentatively and when she didn’t slap his hand away – which, admittedly he would have deserved – he combed his fingers through it slowly. It made her frown. “Are we going to die?” she whispered very quietly. “Is that why you are here?”

“No, we’re not.” he promised, even though he didn’t know for sure. “The shelter will hold.”

“Then I don’t understand, why…” she started only to fall silent when Cressida’s shadow appeared in front of them.

“Sorry.” the director said. “They don’t want people wandering anymore so…”

“I’m in B22.” Haymitch replied. “We’re swapping. If anyone ask, it’s on my authority.” He wasn’t sure he actually had the power to do that but he didn’t particularly care. Plutarch would back him up if need be. He waited until the Capitol woman gathered her things and was gone before he spoke again. “Plutarch told me what the doctors said. About it being difficult. Is it going to be dangerous for you?”

Effie didn’t answer at once so he resumed petting her hair. It was soothing.

“Bearing a child wasn’t recommended.” she said at last. “There are risks.” She closed her eyes. “It’s not worth talking about, we don’t have a choice. The baby’s here now.” She uncurled and guided the hand in her hair to her stomach. There was nothing remarkable to feel there. “I know you’re scared, Haymitch, and I know you would never have chosen me to be the mother of your children.” she pleaded urgently. “But I’m terrified. I can probably do it alone if I have to but please, _please_ , don’t make me.”

It was a lot to take in and he only bothered with one thing. “You’re not the problem, sweetheart. You _never_ were the problem. If I have to have a kid with anyone…” He shrugged. “We already share Katniss and Peeta, don’t we?”

“It’s not quite the same thing.” she sighed.

“It’s the same to me.” He slid his hand under her shirt, skin on skin. It didn’t make it any more surreal. “I will screw up. One way or another… I will screw up and I will get him killed and you with him probably.” He didn’t look at her, he stared straight at the grey fabric covering his hand. “I don’t… Keeping people away from me is the only way I know of protecting them.” It was a hard thing to admit but, then again, she probably already knew that. “Except in this place…”

“I’m safer with you.” she finished for him.

“Safer from Coin.” he nodded. “Not safer from me.”

She sat up, his hand fell on her lap but he didn’t look away from her stomach until she placed a hand on his cheek and tilted his head up. Her face was serious, more serious than she usually was.

“I have never _ever_ been scared of you.” Her voice was firm and her blue eyes angry but not at him though – or at least he didn’t think so. “Even when you were drunk, I never _once_ felt threatened by you. I trust you. I… You _know_ what I feel for you.”

He did. But the fact that she knew him enough not to openly say the words because they would send him running only increased his own feelings for her. He couldn’t say it though. He didn’t think he ever could.

So, instead, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers, bumping their noses gently.

“We’re in public.” she reminded him. It was habit.

Perhaps it was time to break the habit.

He kissed her properly, not caring about who was watching or what they would say. It was their best kiss yet, he thought, because that one wasn’t hidden behind closed doors. _Let them see_ , he mused, he wasn’t ashamed of her, Capitol or not. It was a long kiss and the kind that simply couldn’t stop all at once but ended up with a lot of little pecks. It was ridiculous and yet there was a smirk on Haymitch’s lips that was reflected in her grin.

“We can be scared together.” he decided. “And when I screw up, you can try to pick up the pieces. You’re good at that.” That was how they had always worked after all, as a team.

“Together.” she repeated, before leaning against him. “Now can you hold me? I feel better when you hold me.”

“So demanding already, Princess…” He faked a sigh that only resulted with him being nudged in the stomach by her elbow.

The bunk bed was even narrower than the one in his room so it took some maneuvering before they could fit together. They finally had found a comfortable position – with her practically lying on top of him – when another bomb hit, prompting another round of screaming and more flickering of lights.

“You know…” he snorted. “Maybe we shouldn’t worry too much. With the luck we have, we will get killed long before your due date.”

It was a lame joke and he regretted it at once. Her fingers clenched his shirt tight. “You said the shelter would hold.”

“Sure, it will.” He pressed a kiss against her forehead. “And if it doesn’t, we won’t have time to know it. No point thinking about it.”

It took a long time before she relaxed again. “The doctors told me to avoid stress as much as possible. I’m supposed to be careful about not getting upset too much. It is fortunate my manners are flawless because all I wanted to do was laugh in their faces. It was probably a good thing you weren’t there.”

“No lecture about me being thrown in jail, then?” He was still waiting for that.

“Oh, I would have done it myself if you had given me a chance to come with you.” she hissed. “I would probably not have destroyed half of Command in the process but I certainly would have found a chosen word or two for President Coin.”

“Don’t.” he warned her. “Don’t even talk to her if you don’t have to. You need to be even more careful now. I’m already worrying about you too much, it’s distracting me from the kids. If you start troubles on top of it…”

“I will be careful.” she sighed. “You don’t need to concern yourself with me. Just… Don’t reject me. I didn’t choose this more than you did.”

“I’m not the guy you would have chosen to have kids with either, right?” he snorted. It was bitter and he couldn’t quite explain why because he didn’t want children in the first place. But, now, that one was in the making… He didn’t know what to feel or what to do. It was all extremely confusing.

“On the contrary.” she replied softly, burying her face in his neck. “I think if things were different you would do a wonderful father.”

He ran his hands up and down her back slowly. “There’s no point dwelling on _what ifs_ , sweetheart. I learned that years ago.”

Her thumb traced soothing circles on his side. “Aren’t you a tiny bit excited? Underneath the fear and the anger and everything? I am. My mind keeps switching between imagining a baby who looks like us and thinking it would be better for him to never be born. I will be the worst mother ever.”

“I think that means you will be a good one.” he countered. “You care more about your baby than your own wishes.” He paused for a second, debating between saying what he was really thinking. “Did you see the footage of Katniss singing _The Hanging Tree_?”

“She has a wonderful voice but I didn’t like the song.” Effie was quick to answer. “It’s morbid.”

“Because it hits too close to home?” he prompted.

The shelter shook with another bomb and they laid very still during several minutes, waiting for the tremors and the shouts to stop.

“Perhaps.” she whispered at last.

She didn’t expand but he didn’t need her to. In the world they lived in right now, the only freedom was in death and even hope was a hopeless thing. You clang to hope and then you died, that was how it worked.

It was a trap.

And yet, Haymitch thought as his hand found her stomach again, he could feel himself starting to hope despite everything.

Because, yes, she was right.

Underneath the fear and the anger and the over-encompassing panic, buried deep, _deep_ down… There was a flicker of excitement.


	3. Chapter 3

Haymitch’s eyes were on her as soon as Effie stepped in the small room in which everyone was talking. That part of the hospital was buzzing with various doctors, psychologists as well as generalists, and all of them were forming a circle around Plutarch who was nodding at whatever a woman in a white coat was babbling about. Effie never had the luxury to find out what she was saying because Haymitch was at her side in a matter of seconds and nudging her toward the corridor.

“You’re supposed to be resting.” he chided her as soon as they were out of earshot.

“Actually, _we_ are supposed to be in Doctor Haltman’s office for the ultrasound.” Effie replied, placing a hand on her stomach. It was barely round. Most people didn’t even notice the bump with the shapeless uniform.

“Right.” he frowned. “Go without me. I need to talk to Katniss and then check on Peeta.”

“I already rescheduled the appointment. We will meet her in three hours. I want you there, you already missed the first one.” she stated, not leaving any room for argument. She didn’t want to go through the ultrasound alone again. It was too odd an experience to see the still developing shape of a baby on that screen, all the more so when she wasn’t a hundred percent sure she wanted it in the first place. “How are the children?”

“They’re fine. Don’t worry about them.” Haymitch was quick to dismiss her concern. “You’re not supposed to get upset.”

Effie pursed her mouth in annoyance. Trust him to only remember that single instruction, she thought.

“Peeta tried to murder Katniss, I’m already pretty upset.” she snapped. “And I will only get more upset if you don’t tell me what’s happening. Did they find out what is wrong with Peeta? There won’t be any consequence for Katniss, right?”

“Physically, she will be fine.” Haymitch sighed. “Mentally, your guess is as good as mine, sweetheart. As for Peeta… They’re thinking tracker-jacker venom. We’re going to talk to Katniss, Prim is with her, she doesn’t need you. You should go and get some rest.”

It had become a leitmotiv of his ever since the bombings. _Go and get some rest_. _You need to rest. Are you sure you’re feeling alright? You look tired, are you tired? Do you want to rest?_

Effie was ready to start screaming and she was only twelve weeks pregnant.

“I will sit with Johanna.” she said instead, as calmly as she could. “Three hours, Haymitch. Update your wrist.”

He promised but she was sure he would forget. He was trying, she couldn’t deny him that, but she still felt quite alone each time she had to go to the hospital for a check-up by herself – and Doctor Haltman wanted to see her twice a week. Everybody in Thirteen was taking her pregnancy so seriously it was overwhelming : doctors and nurses were always quick to offer their help, Thirteen citizens smiled at her and offered their congratulations, Twelve’s inhabitants were tentatively nice with her since she had been kind of adopted by the Everdeen’s family, she had been dubbed _Haymitch’s girl_ – and she pretended she didn’t see him cringe every time someone called her that in front of him – and people in Command watched her like hawks in case she betrayed the slightest sign of discomfort.

She settled next to Johanna’s bed, feeling sorry for the young woman, not only because she had been tortured but because everyone else was too busy to wait for her to wake up. They weren’t friends by any means but Effie couldn’t help but think that if their positions had been reversed, she would have been just as alone as the victor was.

The chair wasn’t the most comfortable seat and before long, her back was aching. Still, she figured, rubbing her baby bump slowly, almost unconsciously, it was better than laying idle in hers and Haymitch’s room – they had been assigned a new compartment after the bombings, she wasn’t sure how she felt about the forced proximity because as much as they were used to share a penthouse, they had never shared _a room_ before; everything was moving too fast for her.

She couldn’t complain, she reminded herself, not when Peeta was so clearly disturbed, Katniss so obviously distressed and Johanna still unconscious. The worst was the young woman’s hair, of course. Effie would have gone mad if anyone had tried to shave her head and she touched her own curls as if to check they were still there. Wigs weren’t allowed in District Thirteen but she wondered what they had done with the one she had been wearing when she first arrived and if they would consent lending it to Johanna until her hair grew back.

She was scheming a way to get the wig out of Plutarch when Johanna started stirring. It was nothing much. Her fingers twitched, then her eyelids fluttered slowly… Effie scraped her chair closer but it took several seconds before the victor actually opened her eyes.

“Hello.” Effie greeted her with a smile. There was nothing but confusion on Johanna’s face. The escort glanced at the morphling the younger woman was hooked to, wondering how much of the stuff was already in her veins. The victor watched her a bit warily until Effie reached for her face, cupping her cheek. She couldn’t recoil as much as she tried to, probably expecting a punch. It broke Effie’s heart. Johanna seemed even more confused by the lack of violence but she slowly relaxed even going as far as leaning into her hand. How long had it been since someone had touched her in anything other than hate? “It’s me. It’s Effie, do you remember me?”

Johanna stared and then a flicker of recognition flashed through her eyes.

“Trinket.” she croaked. Her voice sounded strange. Hoarse. “Did they get you?”

“No, no…” Effie was quick to reassure her. “You’re completely safe now, dear. We’re in Thirteen.”

“Thirteen…” Johanna repeated, her words sluggish. “What would _you_ do in Thirteen…”

“Haymitch took me with him, of course.” Effie waited until that had sunk in and even though there was some mistrust in the victor’s eyes, there was also no surprise there. Johanna had been friends with Haymitch long enough to suspect that their relationship had never been entirely professional. “You were rescued, do you remember?

It was clear she didn’t. “I feel weird…”

“It’s the morphling.” Effie explained. “They gave you a high dose so you wouldn’t be in pain.” She forced a smile on her lips and used her most cheerful tone. “But the important thing is that you are safe and that you will be just fine. The nightmare is over now.”

Johanna blinked, her reactions were sluggish. “Safe?” There were tears in her eyes, she tried to blink faster but they spilled anyway, running down her cheeks. Effie brushed them away without a single comment.

“Safe.” she swore again.

“Annie? Peeta?” Johanna insisted, grabbing her wrist. There was no strength in it, her fingers were numb and had no grip at all.

“They were rescued too. You did a wonderful job at protecting them. You can rest now.” she told her, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. She placed her hand on the victor’s forehead, wondering how to make her feel better. “You shouldn’t worry about anything. Your hair will grow back and I know just what to do in the meantime. I will try to get you a wig. Perhaps I can convince them to make one especially for you. I will try. Would you like that?”

Johanna’s eyes remained riveted on her for a long minute before she let out something that sounded halfway between a sob and a chuckle. “It’s really you, Trinket… It is?”

“Well, of course, it is.” Effie huffed. “Do you know another person like me?”

The victor mumbled something she didn’t quite catch so she kept petting the bald skin on her head, trying not to put any pressure on bruises and to be soothing. Since Johanna kept sobbing and laughing in turn, she couldn’t say it was working. She was so desperate to help her, she kept talking to her, murmuring silly things about what kind of hair color would suit Johanna the most and what kind of hairstyle they could try with a wig or, if Coin didn’t allow wigs, a scarf. She didn’t notice the shadow at the door until the younger woman was back asleep. Then it moved and she startled.

“Haymitch!” she gasped, a hand on her heart and the other on her stomach. It had become a reflex to protect her belly every time she felt threatened, she assumed it was natural. “How long have you been standing there? Don’t you know it’s rude to sneak on people?”

There was a strange softness on Haymitch’s face when he looked at her but then he glanced at Johanna and schooled his features into something less blatant. “Come on, sweetheart. We’re already late.”

She realized with a pang that they indeed were. And right after she had switched the appointment! Her mother would have been appalled. The thought of her mother, coming out of nowhere, took her aback and she carefully buried it deep inside. She couldn’t afford to worry about someone else right now. She didn’t know what had happened to her family, Plutarch didn’t either and they didn’t have enough resources to try to find out. She wasn’t the only Capitol rebel in Thirteen who had left loved ones behind.

“Is there any news?” she asked as they hurried along the corridors to Doctor Haltman’s office.

His mouth was set in a hard line. “No. It’s like they erased his memories.”

“Is there a cure?” she sighed, resisting the urge to rub the exhaustion off her face – he would have noticed and then she would have been in for a lecture.

He didn’t answer but, really, his silence was enough of a clue.

Doctor Haltman was gracious enough to accept her numerous apologies and she even greeted Haymitch politely – he wasn’t a favorite in the hospital ever since he had tried to strangle the other doctor and Effie couldn’t blame them – but she lost no time in getting Effie on the examination table. Haymitch stood by awkwardly while Effie answered question after question.

“I’m still not happy with your general condition.” Haltman frowned, reviewing the latest blood tests. “I will adjust your food allotment. You need more calories. Some fish maybe if we can get it…” Effie tried to pay attention to what the doctor was saying but she was distracted by Haymitch’s very obvious distress. He looked as if he was about to flee the room each time something under the belt was mentioned and Effie glared at him.

“What is wrong with you?” she hissed, when Haltman excused herself to go and get the ultrasound device.

“You never said you would discuss your… _thing.”_ he whispered back furiously, waving at the general area of her pants.

It only made her glare harder. “It’s called a vagina, Haymitch. If you’re old enough to play with it, I do think you can try to call it by its proper name.”

He didn’t have time to reply, Haltman came back with the device on a rolling cart. “Is everything alright?”

“Perfectly fine.” they both answered at the same time, in the same tensed and annoyed voice. Neither of them looked at each other and the doctor’s eyes traveled from one to the other before she started preparing Effie for the ultrasound without another word.

Haymitch walked closer as soon as the image appeared on the screen, his curious nature winning over his childish tendency to sulk. She watched him study the almost perfect human-shaped image, waiting for the fear that would send him running to kick in. If _she_ was terrified of it, she couldn’t help but be anxious about how he would react.

He surprised her.

He tilted his head, his eyes riveted on the screen with something akin to fascination on his face. “Is everything alright? Nothing abnormal?”

Haltman barely looked up from the screen herself. “Everything is developing as it should. Look there, he’s moving his fingers.” A rare smile graced the doctor’s lips. “He’s saying hello.”

Effie glanced in time to see the tiny finger being slowly outstretched but it was Haymitch who puzzled her. He looked enthralled.

“He’s still smaller than I would like though.” Haltman added as an afterthought. The frown returned to her face. “Here. He’s big enough that we can…” she pushed a few buttons and then the strangest sound echoed in the room.

Regular pulsations.

It took Effie a few seconds to figure out it was her baby’s heartbeat. She almost reached for her stomach before remembering that it was full of sticky paste, she slip her hand in Haymitch’s instead. He squeezed it but he didn’t look at her. He wasn’t looking at the screen either anymore. His breathing was loud and she just knew that he was trying to control his growing panic.

It had suddenly gotten very real.

Not just an image on a screen but a _living_ being.

He excused himself with a half-cooked story about a meeting with Plutarch as soon as Haltman had taken the sensor away. He ran away so fast Effie was almost surprised he didn’t leave a Haymitch shaped hole on the wall like in the silly cartoons she used to watch as a girl. She wondered if they had cartoons in Thirteen. She wondered what her baby would grow up watching.

“I wouldn’t worry.” Haltman said, out of the blue, while putting everything away. “All new fathers get nervous at some point. He will come to terms with it.”

She thanked the doctor without dignifying that little comment with an answer. Haymitch wasn’t like every other new expecting father and she wasn’t like every other new expecting mother.

Haymitch remained distant over the next following days but she didn’t try to force him to talk. She felt as if she needed her own space too, a thing that was difficult to accomplish when they were sharing a room and he insisted on making a mess of her very organized living arrangements. They snapped at each other over the smallest thing and fought until he inevitably remembered she was pregnant with his child and not having a fun time about it, then he would simply comply with whatever she was nagging him about, all the while grumbling under his breath. She sometimes missed the arguments that used to lead to rough angry sex but it seemed that was off the table too, no matter how nasty she became.

He refused to touch her.

Kissing was tolerated but each time she tried to initiate something more, he would back away.

“Are you punishing me?” she asked, one night, after he had turned his back on her again as they were preparing to go to sleep. The fact that they shared a compartment had given them the right to a double bed but she wasn’t sure she was glad about that. She almost regretted the time when they had to spoon to fit, at least they were touching.  

“Punishing you?” he repeated, rolling over again to look at her with a puzzled expression. “What’s that about, sweetheart?”

She hated herself for the burning sensation of tears in her eyes. People were in much, _much_ worse situations than she was : Johanna was still in the hospital, Peeta was making slow progresses but was still very disturbed, Katniss was restless… And there she was, contemplating having a good cry because Haymitch didn’t want to have sex with her anymore…

She had tried everything she could. She had tried to start an epic fight but he had left the room to calm down instead of pouncing on her like he used to do. She had tried the slow approach, waking him with kisses down his jaw and wandering hands but he had simply kissed her on the mouth, clasped her hands in his and climbed out of bed. She had sneaked in the shower when he was washing up but it was a small space and that had been a complete disaster because she had almost slipped.

It had never _ever_ been hard to seduce a man before.

“Is it because I’m fat?” she whispered, completely humiliated. She had been told time and time again that pregnant women were blooming in mind and body. Effie felt neither. Fifteen weeks pregnant and she was finally showing. It was a small bump, that most people still overlooked, but a bump nevertheless. She didn’t fit in her pants, her bras were too small and she had to run to the toilets every fifteen minutes because the baby kept pressing on her bladder. Her own body felt foreign to her. She was avoiding mirrors as much as she could.

Haymitch watched her warily. “Is this a pregnant woman thing?”

“This is really unfair, you know.” she hissed. “I’m pregnant, I can’t control my figure. I don’t particularly enjoy looking like a whale either. And it’s only going to get worse. The baby will get bigger and so will I.” And she carefully didn’t think about how the _bigger_ _baby_ was supposed to come out because that was a terrifying thought all by itself. She was the one to turn her back on him, this time, taking most of the covers with her. He could freeze to death for all she cared.

There was a long silence during which she could feel his stare burning a hole at the back of her neck. Then, he placed a hand on her shoulder and tugged her on her back again. “What are you babbling about now?”

She hastily wiped her eyes, not prepared to be made fun of for crying over such a stupid thing. “I am talking about the fact that you don’t desire me anymore.” Her voice broke but she sniffled proudly before she could start outright sobbing. She felt emotional, not in control. She hated that too. Pregnancy was definitely _not_ for her.

“Bullshit.” he snorted, brushing her hair out of her face. He leaned in and he kissed her. It was the kind of slow and messy kiss that promised a thousand sweet tortures but when she coiled a hand around his neck and urged him closer, he drew back.

She frowned immediately. “Apparently, it isn’t _bullshit,_ as you say.” She despised cursing and she didn’t even care about what was coming out of her mouth. She hadn’t had sex in seven weeks, since she had discovered her pregnancy, and she was frustrated. “You can’t even touch me, now.” She was referring to the hands hovering uncertainly near her waist.

“You want… sex.” he _finally_ caught up. And they said he was bright, she thought.

“What I want is irrelevant because, apparently, _you_ don’t want it.” she huffed. “Perhaps I should find another lover.”

“You’re pregnant.” he said as if she needed a reminder.

“Which is good news.” she sneered. “I can’t get any more pregnant, now, can I?”

“Don’t be a bitch.” he growled, an angry scowl on his face. “It’s not actually easy to keep my hands to myself, sweetheart – _literally_ at that – when you keep on teasing me.”

“Teasing you?” Effie folded her arms over her chest with a pout. “That’s not _teasing_ , Haymitch, that’s _seducing_. I want you. How much plainer or vulgar can I get?”

“Well, plenty…” He waved that question away. “You’re pregnant.”

She threw the covers away and got out of bed, trying to locate her uniform in the dark. She wasn’t supposed to wander in the corridors after lights-out but perhaps Plutarch or Beetee needed help. She would never be able to sleep now anyway.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Going to work – where more people will so kindly remind me that my body isn’t my own anymore and that I am supposed to rest or drink every half hour because, in case I have forgotten, _you impregnated me!”_ The end of that sentence ended in a shout. She hadn’t meant to but she was so _furious_. “Don’t you worry.” she hissed. “I will add ‘not desirable enough to have sex with’ to the lists of cons. Currently, the cons are winning by twenty if you’re interested.”

He wrapped his arms around her before she could shed the shirt she slept in to slip on her uniform and she realized, not without shame, that she was a bit hysterical.

“Done with the temper tantrum?” he asked.

She relaxed against his chest but she couldn’t quite get rid of the pout. “You don’t want me.”

“Don’t be stupid, you’re better than that.” He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. “Of course, I want you. It’s been torture not to touch you, sweetheart, but you’re supposed to rest.”

“I swear to everything holy, Haymitch, if you say that again one more time, I will probably smother you with a pillow in your sleep.” she threatened – not that he slept much anyway. He was constantly afraid he would hurt her in a delirium induced by nightmares. “I am not made for resting. It drives me crazy. I hate being idle. _I hate it_.”

“And I don’t want to be responsible for you losing that baby.” he replied. “Sex is out.”

“But Haltman said we could…” she whined. “She said it will be alright by now as long as we’re careful…”

“You talked to Haltman about our sex life?” The arms tensed around her but she didn’t even felt bad.

“Our _lack_ of sex life, you mean.” she snorted bitterly. “You should know I don’t like feeling neglected.”

“Oh, I know…” he replied, hands roaming tentatively down her back. “You’re an attention whore.”

“Is that any way to speak to the mother of your child?” she hissed, whacking his arm. “You will have to watch your language when he’s born, you know.”

She had the sensation she was talking to a wall. He was very focused on the shirt she was wearing, his fingers were toying with the hem, brushing her thighs.

“You’re sure we can have sex?” he asked. “I don’t want to hurt you. Or the kid.”

“Are you telling me all this time, while I was pining for you, you were actually trying to do the proper thing for once?” The lack of response was telling enough. “You’re an idiot.” She cradled his head into her hands and pulled him in a slow kiss, coaxing a moan out of him. “It’s lucky you happen to be _my_ idiot because other women would be far less understanding.”

“Shut up, Princess.” he smirked against her lips.

The return of a regular sexual activity between them made life easier for Effie. It was a way to blow some steam, even though they couldn’t be as rough or as wild as they would have liked, and it served as a stress-reliever – with Katniss gone to District Two, she was in a state of permanent worry over the girl. Besides, knowing he didn’t mind her not-perfect figure was good for her, it helped her accept the change in her own body.

She still wasn’t thrilled, but it was better than it used to be.

She was just entering her seventeenth week when things took a turn for the worse once again. She walked in Command and found herself in the middle of an argument in which her name was thrown back and forth.

“No _fucking_ way!” Haymitch finally shouted, slamming his fist on the table.

“You will calm down at once or you will find yourself in confinement again.” Coin warned him, obviously bored with the conversation. Then her grey eyes fell on her and Effie saw the calculating glint flash in them. “Miss Trinket should be the one to take the decision anyway. _Then_ we can go back to actual war questions and what to do about Two.” The President gestured at a chair and Effie sat down, sneaking an inquisitive glance at Plutarch.

Haymitch was too angry for her to ask him anything.

“She’s carrying my child.” he hissed, staring at Plutarch.

“Security measures and…” the Gamemaker started arguing, only to be interrupted by Haymitch again.

“No. I don’t want her in there.” he spat. “I will go. Or send Finnick.”

“Finnick was the enemy during the Quell.” Plutarch sighed. “It could get confusing for him. As for you, you are too closely linked to Katniss. Effie is the perfect candidate. She has a recent connection with him, she could help unlock some of his latest memories.”

“I’m telling you…” Haymitch growled.

“Could someone please tell me what is it I am supposed to do or not to do before I get mad and remind all of you that talking about someone standing right in front of you as if they’re not there is not only a poor show of manners but also very unpleasant for the person concerned?” Effie cut in with her best escort voice.

As she soon found out, what Plutarch wanted her to do was to try the same as Delly Cartwright. Peeta was making some progress through a lot of talking with Delly and baking but his recent memories were jumbled. Effie was closer to that time period and shared some personal memories with Peeta that didn’t include Katniss so they thought she could perhaps get some information out of him.

She accepted at once, eager to help the children in any way she could. Haymitch, of course, wasn’t pleased and made his displeasure known, storming out of the briefing despite Coin’s annoyed warnings and only coming back when she was about to enter the room Peeta was baking in.

“I don’t like it.” he grumbled, low enough that Plutarch, who was talking with Peeta’s main psychologist, wouldn’t hear. “You’re putting yourself in unnecessary danger.”

“It’s Peeta.” she argued. “He won’t hurt me.”

Haymitch stared at her for a long second and then averted his eyes. “He’s a mutt, sweetheart. I’m not sure we will ever get him back. If he attacked Katniss, there’s every chance he would attack you or me.”

It hurt him, she could see it. His shoulders slacked, pain flashed in his eyes, regrets too… He felt as if he had failed.

She brushed a hand against his cheek and raised on tip-toes to press a kiss to his lips, not caring who was watching. “It won’t help to think like that. We need to try.”

He kissed her back uncertainly, his eyes darting to where Plutarch and the doctor were still talking, not paying any attention to them. Finally, he breathed out. “Alright. But don’t get reckless.” He tugged on her shirt, untucking it from her pants so it would hang loose. She looked like a giant square but the baby bump was hidden from view and she supposed it was his aim. “No point in giving out your weakness.” he mumbled, studying her as if she was a tribute about to enter the arena. “Tie your hair up. Nothing he can grab.” She complied, not seeing a point in reminding him that there would be guards inside or that Plutarch had promised she would be safe. “Are you sure?” he asked one last time. He placed his hand on her stomach briefly, so briefly she almost thought it was an accident, and that last gesture almost made her confidence wavered.

However, Peeta had been her responsibility well before that baby was even conceived and she couldn’t let him down so she nodded. “There will be cake.” she joked, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m _craving_ good cakes.”

“Don’t complain to me later that you got fat.” he smirked but the worry didn’t left his eyes. “I will be right behind the glass.”

She nodded again just as the doctor signaled her it was time to go in, reminding her one last time about the instructions she had been given : answer Peeta’s questions if she could, avoid discussing Katniss, try to steer the conversation on the Capitol and what he could possibly have heard during his captivity but, mostly, try to help reconstruct his memories.

She was very nervous when she stepped in the room so it was quite anticlimactic when she found Peeta calmly steering a mixture in a bowl. The guards leaning against the wall stood straighter, ready to intervene, but the boy didn’t react badly. He simply stared, the wooden spoon forgotten in his hand, his eyes glassy as if he was trying to place her in his mind.

She resisted the urge to glance at the wide mirror that took a whole wall, knowing Haymitch was watching. Several seconds passed in tensed silence when it finally occurred to Effie that while she might look familiar, there was no way Peeta could recognize her without her Capitol attire.

“I wish I could hug you.” she said, because it was the first thing that popped in her head. The boy looked awful : dark bags under his eyes, messy hair, pale skin…

“Effie.” It was a statement, not a question.

She offered a bright smile and took a bold step forward, imaging all too clearly how Haymitch must have been cringing at her recklessness. “Yes.”

“What are you doing here?” Peeta asked, still seemingly frozen on the spot.

“I came to bake with you, of course.” she offered, forcing herself to walk closer to the big table, covered with baking tools, floor, small bowls of fruits and – her heart started to race – _chocolate_. “Well… Since I never did bake in my life, I suppose I should say I came to _try_ and bake with you. Really, all you can expect from me is getting in the way and probably eating more than I produce.” She sneaked a strawberry from a bowl. It was ripper than she would have liked but she still swallowed it before anyone could stop her, not even trying to hide her delighted moan. “Do you know _how_ _long_ it had been since I ate a strawberry? Food is dreadful in this place.”

The guards and Peeta were all staring at her like she was crazy so she went on blabbering about her favorite dishes and the finest delicacies she couldn’t even dream of in Thirteen… It took several minutes and several other stolen pieces of fruits before Peeta finally spoke again.

“I meant what are you doing _here_?” he said again. “You’re a Capitol. You shouldn’t be here.”

He looked so confused and she couldn’t blame him. “The Capitol is wrong.” The words were difficult to say but she knew they were right. “Picking children and forcing them to fight to death is wrong. It has to stop.”

“Did she tell you to say that?” he asked, slowly starting to steer his mixture again. His eyes never left her, though, it was unnerving. He tracked each move she made.

“Who, dear?” she faked incomprehension as she reached for the stack of chocolate.

His hand clasped hers so fast she didn’t have time to react. A gasp escaped her lips and the soldiers walked closer but Peeta looked collected enough. He simply took the plate of chocolate from her and placed it closer to him, out of her reach.

Everyone slowly relaxed but her heart kept hammering in her chest, she was sweating a lot more than she cared to admit and she had to fight the urge to place her hands on her stomach.

“You know who.” he replied, breaking the chocolate in several small pieces that he put in the bowl. “Katniss.” He sneered her name with so much hatred it broke Effie’s heart.

“I’m not here because of Katniss.” Effie argued.

“As long as you know she’s lying to you…” Peeta shrugged, breaking another piece of chocolate – a larger one – and sliding it slowly to her. “Can you mash the strawberries?”

She followed his instructions to the letter, munching on her piece of chocolate when she could – she was trying to make it last – and providing most of the chatter. Chatting had never been a problem for her. She could talk all day if she had to. She provided him with a lively account of the latest gossips, avoiding the subject of her own pregnancy, and tentatively brought him down memory lane by mentioning a laugh they had once, during Victory Tour, at Haymitch’s expense. Katniss had been brooding in her room at the time so she thought it was safe. He kept shifting the discussion back to the girl but Effie was very skilled at handling difficult conversations and she deflected every question about her.

“It’s almost unbelievable.” Peeta chuckled at some point and since they had been talking about what amount of sugar she should put in the mix, Effie was confused.

“What is, dear?” she mused, biting her lower lip. Baking _was_ complicated. She couldn’t say she’d enjoy doing it regularly. Buying cakes in a shop seemed a more productive way to actually _get_ cake.

“How easily you lie.” he spat. She tensed, ready to bolt away but there was a smile on his lips. “You need to put some water in this.” He nodded to her pot. “So are any of those cakes for Haymitch?”

The question seemed loaded somehow, tricky.

“Haymitch isn’t going anywhere near those cakes.” she laughed, she didn’t even have to fake amusement. “He loves to joke about my weight lately, you see, but really… He should be watching his own figure. He’s the one with the flabby stomach.”

It was, perhaps, a slight exaggeration. Haymitch had lost so much weight during his withdrawal that even the small bulge of alcohol induced fat at his waist had disappeared. He was all bones lately – and the fact that he kept shoving half of his share of food on her tray didn’t help.

“I saw him around.” Peeta said, moving next to her to help saving her disastrous attempt at baking. He barely had to glance at what he was doing, he seemed to operate on instinct only. “He never stopped to say hello.”

“He misses you terribly.” Effie confessed. “We all do. I was so worried for you, Peeta…”

“Were you?” he snorted. “Funny business for an escort.” She flinched and she thought she glimpsed a flash of guilt in his eyes but it was soon gone, replaced by a confused expression that was soon followed by another sneer. “Did Haymitch bring you here?”

“Yes.” she answered. There was no point lying to that.

“Why?” Peeta insisted, breaking another piece of chocolate in two. He stuffed one bit into his mouth and handed her the other.

She didn’t eat it at once, she was pondering his question. “The same reason you volunteered to go back to the arena, I hope.”

It was tentative and her eyes wandered to the mirror but she couldn’t see behind the glass. All she saw was her own reflection. The reflection of a lost woman wearing rags, unfit to be seen in society, bigger than she used to be and with hollow cheeks. Almost a stranger. The reflection of a woman who had left everything behind to follow a man she loved in hope of saving two children she adored. She wondered if Haymitch was seeing the same thing. She wondered if it was enough.

“Hate, then.” Peeta shrugged. “He wants to kill you. He only loves Katniss, you know.”

“Oh, Peeta… That’s not true, at all!” she lamented, instinctively placing a hand on his shoulder. It reminded her so much of the night before the Quell actually started, of the unbearable goodbyes, that her throat closed up and tears burned her eyes. The memory was powerful and, obviously, not only to her. It was plain that Peeta was remembering too. Pain flashed on his face, followed by grief and then…

Everything happened too fast.

Hands were around her throat, squeezing so tight she choked. She scratched his wrists, his arms, his face… Everything she could reach but to no avail. People were shouting, the guards were doing their best to separate them…

And then, finally, Peeta was torn away from her and air rushed to her lungs. Arms grabbed her before she could fall and helped her sit down. She coughed. Her sight was blurred by tears but soon enough Haymitch’s concerned face was all she could see. He brushed his hand against her cheek before gathering her against his chest.

She thought he simply wanted to offer comfort but he sneaked an arm under her knees and lifted her up. Before she even understood what he meant to do, he was carrying her out of that room and to the main part of the hospital where nurses and doctors hurried around them, full of questions that rang in her ears.

_Had she lost consciousness at any point?_

_Had she knocked her stomach?_

_Was she in any kind of pain?_

_Did she had trouble breathing? Talking? Seeing?_

She answered everything to the best of her abilities, a little stunned. It took almost fifteen minutes before the activity around her died down to Doctor Haltman who declared they would keep her overnight and run some test to make sure the baby hadn’t suffered. Haymitch remained right next to her through it all, not even flinching when personal questions – that were embarrassing even for her – were asked and answered.

“Do you feel anything odd _at_ _all_?” Haltman insisted, once Effie had been rolled on a gurney to a private room.

She thought hard about it, leaning against the hand Haymitch had placed on her shoulder.

“There is a strange feeling.” she finally confessed, rubbing her stomach. “But it’s not painful. It’s more like… a fluttering. Or bubbles? It is difficult to explain.”

Haltman consulted her charts and gave her a small smile. “It’s probably the baby moving. It’s faint for now but I bet, same time next week, you will complain to me about his kicking.”

“Probably?” Haymitch repeated, obviously shaken by the whole ordeal. He was pale and the tremor in his hands was very pronounced. “I don’t want probably. I want to be sure.”

“Must you always be so rude?” Effie sighed, wincing when she swallowed.

“Must you always be so stupid?” he snapped back. “I told you it was a bad idea.”

It was fortunate that Doctor Haltman was well used to their bickering by now. She wasn’t even fazed by Haymitch’s inexcusable rudeness.

“We will wait for the tests results but I don’t think the baby was actually hurt during the scuffle.” Haltman explained. “I’m more concerned about the effect Effie’s stress will have on the fetus, so please, Haymitch, no fighting.”

He scowled but nodded.

Effie remained quiet until the doctor was gone and they were left alone. She looked down, dejected. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have touched him.”

“Not your fault, sweetheart.” he sighed, rubbing his face. “It’s Plutarch’s _stupid_ idea.” He grabbed a chair and sank on it. He looked ten years older all of a sudden. “Do you really feel him moving?”

She nodded, placing a hand on her stomach. She couldn’t feel anything against her palm though. It was the most peculiar sensation. “We always refers to the baby as a boy but it might be a girl.”

“How long until we know?” he asked.

“Another week or two I think. Maybe three, I am unsure.” she frowned. “I tried to find books about the subject but Thirteen’s library is restricted.” It hadn’t surprised her in the slightest. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. Do you want to find out the sex or should we keep the surprise?”

“I don’t like surprises much.” he shrugged.

“Me neither.” she hummed.

“What are you doing here?” a feminine voice asked from the threshold.

“What are you doing in your underwear?” Haymitch retorted.

Johanna’s chuckles were hollow and harsh, a pale imitation of the snarky laughter she used to be so quick with. She leaned against the doorframe, clad only in a grey top and grey panties that formed the basic feminine underwear attire.

“Sneaking around trying to find morphling.” Johanna replied. “Can’t do that with those _fucking_ gown things. It ruffles.” Effie smoothed her own hospital gown, trying not to agree with Johanna – matter of principle – even though she couldn’t quite deny the truth of that statement. The victor nodded at her. “What are you doing here, Trinket?”

“Remember the thing we kept dreaming about?” Haymitch snorted without any amusement, waving at Effie’s throat. “Someone did it.”

Johanna’s eyes were riveted on her throat and Effie cleared it, ill-at-ease, only to regret it immediately after a fit of coughing. Nothing was crushed but it still _hurt_.

“A shame she didn’t come out mute.” Seven’s victor sneered but there was no real animosity behind it. “Did they hook you to morphling?” The young woman walked closer to inspect her IV bag. She made a face and sighed. “No good stuff.”

Plutarch appeared at the door before any of them could answer. He smiled sympathetically at Effie but he only had eyes for Haymitch. “Can I talk to you?”

“I’m busy.” Haymitch spat with a glare.

“I will keep her company.” Johanna offered which sounded very suspicious to Effie. Haymitch didn’t look more convinced by her sudden good will but he still walked out to speak with Plutarch. The second the door closed behind him, the victor was rummaging through drawers. “You sure there’s no good stuff? They must have given you something for the pain!”

“Even if there was, I wouldn’t help you steal drugs.” Effie clucked her tongue. “They can’t give me painkillers anyway so I think you’re losing your time, Johanna.”

“Why?” Johanna frowned. “You’re allergic to morphling or some shit? That would be just like you. Annoying to the very end. Although very convenient to know if I ever want to kill you…”

“I’m pregnant.” The words left her mouth before she could think twice about it. She realized with a start it was the first time she actually _told_ the news to someone. Haymitch had more or less announced it to the entire District when he had destroyed Command. It made her smile for some reason, as if she had regained a tiny amount of control on the situation.

There was a heavy silence during which Johanna stared at her with wide eyes. After a while she flopped on the chair next to the bed.

“You reproduced.” the victor said. “That should be illegal.” Haymitch’s shouting echoed even with the door closed and Johanna openly cringed either at the loud outburst or at the sudden realization that Effie had only one known lover in that District. “It’s his kid?” Effie nodded. “This is so fucked up…” Johanna shook her head. “That was _fucking_ stupid. From you I get, but Haymitch?”

“Don’t eat and have sex in this place.” she replied tiredly before Johanna could start criticizing some more. “Trust me, I wasn’t entertaining the thought of getting pregnant more than Haymitch wanted a child.” It was tiring how people always expected her to be happy with the news but kept commiserating with Haymitch over his well-known wish to never have children. Some even more or less implied it was her fault – which it definitely _wasn’t_ ; Haymitch had been as eager as she had been in getting them in that position.

Johanna tilted her head and watched her closely before shrugging. “If you don’t want it, get rid of it.” Effie’s hands shot for her stomach protectively and the victor’s frown turned into a sneer. “See, you’re a liar. You _do_ want it.”

Since Haymitch stormed back in at that point, raging about the situation getting worse in Two, there was no time to actually answer Johanna or question the subject further.

Effie remained imprisoned – because that was how it felt, she _hated_ being stuck to her bed and having to rely on nurses for the slightest thing – in the hospital for exactly three days before she was cleared for part-time work – and that was only because she begged Plutarch to sneak behind Haymitch’s back and get her an authorization from her doctor, Haltman was all for having her transferred to a less stressful position. She came back in Command just in time to be appraised of the plan to blow out the Nut that would give them control over Two.

The following forty-eight hours were probably more stressful than Doctor Haltman would have liked but Effie played the game by the rules and regularly left Command to rest and eat, making sure she was drinking enough. She tried to nag Haymitch into getting some sleep too given that he hadn’t lied down since the madness had begun but he wouldn’t hear of it.

When the actual attack happened, she was sitting right next to him in Command. Everyone was religiously silent, following the action on the screens. The Nuts exploded as planned and then the waiting began. Would the Capitol loyalists wait in the mine or would they try to get out? Plutarch and Coin were both giving out instructions through mics, on the screens, the fighting began for key places like the train station. It lasted the whole night.

“Haymitch, we might expect an aerial attack.” Plutarch said, out of the blue, a hand on his earpiece. “Tell Katniss to go inside.”

Haymitch had his own mic and earpiece linked directly to Katniss. Effie hurried in plugging another one in so she could follow the discussion. She hated the fact that the girl was so close to the line of fire. Katniss was her job. She didn’t care as much about their rebellion as she did about her victor.

Haymitch’s call of the girl’s name remained unanswered. He put his hand on his mic to muffle the sound and turn to Effie. “Does she have her earpiece on? Get a hold on Cressida or Hawthorne.” But right when she was about to do just that Katniss finally answered and moved back inside.

Command was buzzing with activity but Haymitch and Effie were sitting a bit apart, focused only on one thing : their Girl on Fire. It was like they were back to being mentor and escort. Hours stretched out, Haymitch suggested she should go and get some sleep but Effie refused to move, just as she always did during Games times. They always faced everything the arena had in store together, like a team. District Two was just another arena.

“She shouldn’t be there.” Her whisper was almost swallowed by the loud orders being shout left and right but Haymitch heard her anyway. The images on the screens were gruesome, it made her queasy.

“You shouldn’t either.” he smirked, in an attempt to lighten the mood. His hand hovered over her stomach but didn’t actually touch. “If this kid is half as stubborn as you or Katniss, I’m going to go mad.”

She grabbed his wrist gently and brought his fingers to her small bump. She didn’t know why he was so reluctant to touch when he so often reached for it. “As if his father isn’t the most obstinate person in all Panem.”

“Could be a girl.” he shrugged. “Then we will be in even more trouble.”

“You really want a girl, don’t you?” She couldn’t help a smile. She could see him with a little girl. He would spoil her rotten and he would never _ever_ let a boy near her. If he could handle Katniss, he could handle anyone.

“Haymitch, Boggs says Katniss is getting withdrawn.” Plutarch called him out suddenly. “Talk to her. Get her head back in the game. We might need her.”

“Need her?” Effie frowned. “Need her for what? She _isn’t_ supposed to fight.”

A dreadful feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.

“If we show her around, it might sway some of the resistance to our side.” Plutarch replied.

“Show her around in a battlefield?” Effie hissed. “I don’t think so! It wasn’t _at all_ what we agreed on, we…”

“I’m really sorry, Effie, but I don’t have time to discuss this.” The Gamemaker retorted, obviously annoyed at being forced to justify himself. He soon went back to Coin’s side, pointing out at different places on a map and talking very quickly.

Effie was fuming. She turned to Haymitch who had remained silent through the whole conversation. “Are you alright with this?”

“Not particularly, sweetheart, but if we don’t send her, someone else will.” he shrugged. “I’d rather stay in control.”

“None of us is in control.” Effie muttered but she sat down and helped Haymitch because that was her job – it had _always_ been her job.

Katniss was very long in answering Haymitch and she sounded so distant and detached that Haymitch and Effie exchanged a worried glance. They didn’t need to talk to know they were both thinking of the days when she hid behind pipes because she couldn’t _cope_.

“Tell her about Peeta.” Effie suggested. “He’s making progress. That’s something.”

She listened absent-mindedly to their conversation, discreetly rubbing her stomach under the table. She ignored the heartburn sensation. It was high time she went back to their room to rest, she supposed. She had been there longer than she had intended.

They kept on waiting, Haymitch occasionally making contact with Katniss to check she hadn’t gone back to her catatonic state. At some point, he made an attempt at suggesting Effie went to bed but she was determined to remain there as long as Katniss was in danger. She told him she wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway, the truth was, she wasn’t sure she would even have been able to reach their room. The heartburns were getting worse by the second. She drank some water and cursed pregnancies to hell and back for the constant discomfort her body was in.

“Alright, Haymitch, Effie, you’re on.” Plutarch said, a little before midnight. Effie almost startled, too lost in her own thoughts. “Cressida is going to equip Katniss. We will get her on the steps of the Justice Building. We have a team around she will be perfectly safe. Prepare a speech, you will feed it to her line by line.”

“Forget that she’s a bad actress already?” Haymitch grumbled, clearly not pleased with the plan. “That wasn’t what we discussed.”

“It can spare lives.” Plutarch argued before clasping his hands and rubbing them against each other. “We need to get this show on the road.”

Haymitch mumbled something very disobliging about Gamemakers but Effie didn’t feel like reminding him of being polite.

“I will start working on the speech, shall I?” she sighed. She wrote quickly while he explained to Katniss what they wanted from her. His eyes were riveted on the screens though and she could see him frowning more and more as seconds passed.

He placed a hand on his mic again to keep that from Katniss. “She will be a sitting duck up there. I don’t like this.”

She didn’t like it more. Her heart was hammering against her ribcage, it made her dizzy but she didn’t have time to focus on herself. Her entire mind was on the girl. She slid the piece of paper with her hurriedly written speech in front of him, he read it quickly, grabbed her pen to correct a few things then nodded his approval.

When the Mockingjay appeared on the screens, dark and commanding in her stance, Effie was almost ready to faint. It started out alright. Katniss repeated everything Haymitch told her to and Effie allowed herself to breathe properly until a man staggered out of the station and Katniss started running to him, ordering everyone to cease fire.

“What in Panem is she doing?” Coin raged from the other side of the room.

“Being Katniss.” Haymitch grumbled just as the man grabbed his gun and trained it on Katniss who stepped back instinctively. “ _Freeze_.”

Haymitch was calm but it wasn’t a good sort of calm. Effie knew the face he was sporting right at that moment, it was his Games face. It was the face he always made when he was trying to decipher the arena because it was a matter of urgency.

She stood up without really realizing it, feeling the need to _do_ something. If she could have stepped through one of the screens, she probably would have done it. The burning sensation in her stomach only got worse. She was breathing too quickly but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t quite get it back under control. She gripped the back of Haymitch’s chair in an effort to stay upright but he didn’t seem to notice, entirely focused on what was happening in Two.

Katniss was speaking, trying to convince the man to put his gun down.

“Keep talking.” Haymitch urged her. “Tell them about watching the mountain go down.”

The man hesitated.

Haymitch leaned forward, sitting at the edge of his seat, his right hand flexing automatically as if he was itching to get his knife.

“Who’s the enemy?” he whispered to Katniss.

It sent the girl rolling in a better speech than Effie could ever write – not that she heard much of it. The burning gave to an awful sensation of tearing and panic started to kick in as she realized it wasn’t just the minor pains she had been experiencing since the start of her pregnancy but something more serious. It came and went in waves. _Contractions,_ her mind supplied.

“Haymitch…” she groaned, almost bending in two.

That was when the shot rang out and Katniss fell down.

“Katniss!” Haymitch roared, getting up in his panic. It sent his chair rolling and Effie almost crashed to the floor. She would have if there hadn’t been a very convenient soldier close by. The young man held her up, asked her if she was feeling alright but was there a right answer to that question when Haymitch and almost everyone else in the room was yelling “status!” to someone else through a communicator?

She breathed through her mouth to control the pain but it didn’t work and soon enough the soldier had to help her sit down. Command was in such chaos that no one noticed. The room started spinning and her head rolled on her shoulder.

“Fuck!” someone shouted and it sounded suspiciously like Plutarch. “Is she _bleeding_?”

Of course Katniss must have been bleeding, she had been shot! How stupid was that man? Fortunately for her perfect manners’ reputation, she was too out of it to say any of that out loud.

It wasn’t until Plutarch hand fell on her shoulder, immediately pushed away by Haymitch’s, that she wondered if he had been talking about _her_ instead.

“Someone get her out of there!” Coin ordered coldly. “This is a war room not a _bloody_ clinic!”

“Sweetheart? Sweetheart, you _can’t_ do this to me right now. Katniss needs me. I can’t deal with you _and_ her. Effie, are you listening to me?” Haymitch sounded frantic.

Another contraction made her stomach clench and she let out a grunt. She wondered if Katniss was feeling the same kind of excruciating pain. She wondered if Katniss was even still alive.

She wondered how guilty she was for everything that had happened to the girl since the day Effie had called Primrose’s name.

Then she stopped wondering.

She stopped wondering because everything faded away.

Nothing was left but darkness and silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The baking scene was actually a request from Akachankami so kudos to her for the idea =)


	4. Chapter 4

“No, Haymitch, you have to wait here.” Doctor Haltman said.

When he tried to step in anyway, Haymitch was firmly pushed back in the corridor. He stood there, everything suddenly calm around him again, the image of Effie rolling away on a gurney with speckles of blood staining her pants seared on his eyelids.

A hand squeezed his shoulder and he nearly jumped to the ceiling but it was only Johanna, with a frown on her face, wearing her hospital gown for once. “I saw them roll her by, what’s going on?”

“Katniss got shot and Effie collapsed.” he summed up, completely lost. “I think she’s losing the baby.”

And that was when everything sank in and he felt the need to sit down.

There was no convenient chair in that part of the hospital, no cozy place in which to wait for news, so he simply sat down right there, in the middle of the corridor. Johanna hesitated slightly before sitting down right next to him with a good amount of wincing. He should have felt bad to force a still recovering woman to sit on the floor with him.

“Is it a bad thing?” she shrugged. “You can’t tell me you want a kid, Haymitch.”

Swallowing was hard, breathing was even worse. The tremors in his hands were so bad they kept shaking even when he closed them in fists. He wanted a drink. He _needed_ a drink.

“He’s mine.” he whispered. “ _They_ ’re mine.”

It was too late to not get attached. He was _already_ attached. He had seen the strange shape on the ultrasound screen, he had heard the heartbeat… He had joked with Effie about boys and girls… He had spent nights staring at her stomach and trying to convince himself that it could actually be _good_ after the war, they could have a future, start over… It was real, it was happening. His daughter or his son was already there.

Fortunately, Johanna didn’t argue. She simply stayed where she was, sitting close enough that their shoulders were touching, occasionally sneering or glaring at people who were passing by and looked down at them with disapprobation.

He didn’t know how long had passed when Plutarch showed up but it couldn’t be long because he was still clutching the same papers he did when Effie had collapsed.

“We have Two under control and Katniss is alive.” the Gamemaker said as soon as he saw them. Haymitch couldn’t help but reflect on his priorities. “She will be completely fine. Bruised ribs and probably her concussion again but nothing too dire. They’re bringing her back on a hovercraft as we speak. How’s Effie?”

Haymitch buried his face in his hands.

Relief for his girl and dread for his lover clashing in his chest.

“We don’t know yet.” Johanna finally answered for him. “But you know Trinket… She likes a fuss. She’s probably just doing this for the attention.”

It was a joke. Effie and Johanna were _always_ bickering, fighting when not downright insulting each other but, deep down, there was an odd friendship there. Haymitch knew it was a joke. Yet he couldn’t help himself.

“Shut up.” he warned her in a growl. “Just… _Shut up_.”

A flicker of irritation flashed in her eyes but Johanna had known him for years, she was one of his kids in a way, he had taken her in just like he had Finnick, and she probably guessed that what he was going through at that precise moment was worse than anything he had faced for a very, _very_ long time.

“She’s much too annoying to die.” Johanna replied. “You know that.”

Her attempts at comfort fell short.

“I need to go back to Command.” Plutarch said, placing a sympathetic hand on Haymitch’s shoulder. “I’m sure she will be alright, Haymitch. Doctor Haltman is very good at what she does. Keep me updated, please.”

He left and they waited for what felt like hours but couldn’t have been more than minutes. At some point, Finnick and Annie showed up and sat with them without a word.

They must have looked very silly, Haymitch mused. A bunch of victors sitting on the floor, waiting for news of an escort, praying she would still be alive at the end of the night…

“I will go check on your brainless bird.” Johanna offered when a soldier came to inform him that Katniss was back in Thirteen and under heavy medication. He wondered if it was the appeal of morphling or genuine good intentions that motivated the young woman.

“She’s going to be fine.” Finnick said after Annie had gone in search of Johanna who was taking her time coming back.

“I can’t lose her.” He didn’t know where the words came from and he didn’t know why they slipped so easily from his mouth when he had so much difficulties telling Effie he cared about her.

“You won’t.” Finnick promised. “She’s strong.”

_Not_ _really_ , he wanted to answer, _she simply pretends to be for everybody’s sake_. However, there was no explaining that to Finnick, just like there would be no point in telling Johanna or Katniss or Peeta.

“ _Fuck_ , I’m too old for this…” he mumbled, pressing the heel of his hand into his face hard enough to hurt. “I need a drink.”

Four’s victor wisely didn’t reply to that, not even when the women came back with reassuring tales about Katniss’ sure recovery. When Haltman finally stepped out in the corridor, Haymitch jumped to his feet – and almost tumbled over Johanna in the process because he forgot he wasn’t a young man anymore.

“Is she alive?” was the first question that popped out. Perhaps it was the only one of importance.

“Yes.” the doctor was quick in nodding, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “She lost some blood so we had to transfuse her. I was concerned for a while with…” She must have seen the tired look on his face because she cut the explanations short. “She’s alive and she’s not in any danger right now.”

He very nearly sat down again just to let that information sink in.

“And the baby?” Finnick cleared his throat.

“She didn’t lose it but…” Haltman winced. “You have to understand it was a very near-miss and I can’t guarantee it won’t happen during the next forty-eight hours. If everything goes right and she doesn’t miscarriage, I want her on bed rest for at least two weeks. I don’t want her vertical before that. After that, we will see, but I’m forbidding her to go anywhere near Command until she gives birth.” Her entire speech was lost on Haymitch. He was focused only one thing: they were both alive. His… _family_. The term was almost foreign. “She’s asleep for now but if you want to go sit with her…”

“Yes.” he nodded before he could even think about it.

They didn’t let him in at once though. There was a lot of talking about cleaning her up and transferring her to another room so in the end, when he was tired of waiting in the corridor under the watchful eyes of the other victors and feeling like a fool for having over-reacted as he had done, he simply used the time to check on Katniss. True to Johanna’s words, her doctors were very confident in her recovery and even though she was drugged out of her mind, she looked alright. Johanna promised she would keep an eye on her, he supposed the appeal of free morphling was too tempting.

Effie, on the other hand, when he was finally allowed in her room, didn’t look alright at all. She looked pale and weak, still asleep. The covers were hiding the baby bump and, as stupid as it was, he checked out it was still there as soon as he was left alone with her. He felt stupid when he placed his hand on her stomach and even more stupid when he felt his throat close up.

“You just hang on tight in there.” he whispered. How much of a fool was he to talk to the bump on her stomach? He felt ridiculous – ridiculous _and_ sentimental which was never good. He _did_ want that child after all, how silly was that? Or at least, he wanted that child to have a chance to live. It was selfish and probably a mistake and yet…

He put the covers back into place and slumped on the uncomfortable chair, studying her sleeping figure. What were they in for?, he wondered. What would happen to her and the baby if that war went south and Snow caught them? It was a moot point, probably. Effie was as doomed as he was if it came down to that. She was a traitor to the Capitol, being his… _partner, lover, sweetheart…_ He didn’t know how to label what she was to him… Nevertheless, it wouldn’t make much of a difference. But the child? Oh, the child… People could use that child against them, to _hurt_ them, to _destroy_ them.

He didn’t know what worried him more… Being shattered to pieces again or someone using _his_ baby to do it. A part of him couldn’t shake off the feeling of foreboding, another part craved alcohol on a permanent basis and there was another tiny one that yearned to help make a better world to raise that child in. It was as idiotic as thinking you could ever win the Games – there was _no_ winning, only surviving – but old dreams and desires were coming back from a time long gone. He had let himself dream about kids once, mainly because his girl had wanted some, they had even joked about possible names…

“Haymitch…”

He startled a little, his unfocused gaze turning to her at once. Her blue eyes were the most beautiful thing he had seen in a long time, probably because he had thought he would never see them again.

“Are you in pain?” he asked.

She shook her head, obviously fighting the last remnants of sleep. She looked confused. “What… What happened?” Her eyes widened then and she moved as if to sit up abruptly but he was quicker. He bolted out of that chair and pressed on her shoulder to keep her lying down before she could do something that would hurt the baby. She stilled under his hand. “Katniss?”

The question was desperate. She had that look in her eyes… The same that she always got when a tribute died.

“She’s fine.” he replied, sitting down carefully at the edge of the bed. “Bruised, that’s all. Cinna was a clever man.”

She breathed out but her relief didn’t last long. Her hand shot for her stomach and she stared at him with utter horror. “The baby…”

“He’s fine too but… It was a close call, sweetheart.” He brushed his fingers against her cheek before catching the hand she had placed on her stomach. “You need to rest.”

She nodded thoughtfully for a few seconds. “It’s my fault. I got upset and…”

Her eyes were full of tears she was trying more or less successfully to keep in check. He hated it when she cried. “If it’s someone’s fault, it’s Katniss’. I swear that girl will be the death of me… Can’t she ever do what she’s told?”

It was a familiar discussion and, usually, she would have replied that he was the wrong person to lecture anyone about listening to advices. She gave him a small smile but it was wobbling a little and it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I want the baby.” she whispered. “I wasn’t sure before but now I… I really want the baby, Haymitch. I love him already.”

Some tears spilled down on her cheek and she averted her eyes as if she felt guilty over that sudden epiphany. She probably did.

“It’s okay.” he promised, brushing her tears away with his thumb. She wasn’t supposed to get upset, how many times would he have to repeat her that? “Nobody is going anywhere. We made a deal.”

“A deal?” she frowned. “With who?”

He pointed to her stomach, knowing he was completely ridiculous but willing to do everything he could to make her relax and forget to worry. “She stays in there a little longer and Mommy will buy her a pony. I’m not paying for a pony but you’re the kind of woman who would.”

It was the first thing that popped through his head but he could perfectly picture it. A miniature Effie pleading with him for a pony and Effie giving in because… Why not? They didn’t know what the baby was yet, boy or girl. Haymitch thought he would rather like a girl.

“Mommy?” she whispered with something akin to awe.

“You like Mama better?” He lifted his eyebrows in honest curiosity. He didn’t quite know why it seemed of vital importance at that second when there was a war happening right outside those walls but…

“No, no… I like Mommy.” she grinned, rubbing the bump like she often did. He didn’t think she realized she was even doing it. “Although we are _not_ getting her a pony, Haymitch. What are you thinking? Silly, _silly_ Daddy.” She cooed the last part at her stomach.

He tried not to show how much the D-word made him want to throw up in sheer nerves.

“We’re having a baby.” he said firmly, to no one in particular – or maybe it was a statement to the universe. They were having a baby and nothing would happen to prevent that. For once, there would be no dramas, no death and no mishaps. For once, he wanted something _good_.

“We’re having a baby.” she echoed with a beaming smile.

The smile became less and less beaming over the course of the next few days until it downright turned into a perpetual crease on her brow.

She was bored to tears, restless and an actual _pain in the ass_. She complained all day long and begged for something to do even if it was only classing files – which would never happen since she had been shut out of anything remotely stressful and everything in Thirteen _was_ stressful. Finnick and Annie often visited her, the youngest victor even sitting by her bedside for hours at a time, Prim and Mrs Everdeen stopped by now and then, even Johanna made a point of spending some time with her if only to mock the “devil’s spawn” – Haymitch wasn’t sure if he approved or disapproved the nickname because it was funny but insulting at the same time – and blow out some of her own restlessness by bickering with Effie. Haymitch spent as much of his own free time as he could in her room, dividing his attention between Command and the hospital to the point that Haltman had a cot put up in her room so he could get some sleep now and then.

She never did lose the baby but her doctor wasn’t completely happy with her progress either. The kid was still smaller than he should be and Effie wasn’t as strong as she would have liked.

So when he was paged to the hospital for an emergency a week and a half after Katniss was shot, he was sure it was bad news. He had perfected the trip from Command to the hospital to a ten minutes walk – through a lot of shortcuts and no less waving of his priority badge – he spent each of them that day conjuring hundreds of possible things that could have gone wrong. Complications with the pregnancy, another miscarriage scare… By the time he actually reached her room, he had convinced himself that she was either dying or already dead.

On retrospect, finding her laughing cheerfully with Johanna slumped on the foot of the bed was underwhelming.

There was no blood, no grim-faced doctors and no nurses running around. Seven’s victor took one look at him and started cackling like a mad woman – which he had no doubt she was. “Oh, now, you’re in trouble, Trinket.”

Effie didn’t seem worried at all by that observation, she greeted him with a large smile, her blue eyes twinkling in pleasure. She was beautiful – the thought struck him out of nowhere.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” he growled. “Emergency paging is for _emergencies_. I know you’re not the brightest bulb, sweetheart, but surely even you can grasp that.”

She pursed her lips in annoyance and slightly tilted her head on the side. Her obvious irritation died down soon enough though and morphed into a crazy grin. “You have to feel this, Haymitch!” She waved him closer enthusiastically – _so_ enthusiastically that he was honestly a bit scared.

He stepped closer warily, frowning when she grabbed his wrist and forced his hand on the now-round stomach. It was weird how bigger she had become in a few days only, it was almost as if accepting the fact that she wanted the child had made her body less… hostile to her pregnancy. She wasn’t _big_ by any standards but she was big for her, her stomach was all round.

“Do you feel the devil’s spawn?” Johanna inched closer with a sneer that did a bad job at covering her curious expression. “It was kicking like crazy ten minutes ago.”

“I would thank you not to call my child an _it_ or by that ridiculous nickname.” Effie huffed, guiding his hand on the other side of her baby bump. She grinned harder when she found the perfect spot. “Here! Do you feel the kick?”

He actually _did_.

It was… strange, to say the least. The kicking was faint yet something was definitely moving in there. _His baby_ was moving in there.

“I apologize if I worried you but I couldn’t let you miss this.” She was almost bouncing with excitement. “It’s the first time it’s strong enough to be felt by someone else.”

“I think the devil’s spawn likes my cursing.” Johanna added proudly.

“Is it normal ? Did you talk to Haltman?” he frowned.

“Perfectly normal.” she laughed. “She scheduled an ultrasound at the end of next week. She will be able to tell us if it’s a boy or a girl. You still want to know, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” he nodded absent-mindedly, following the kicking with his hands. It was oddly fascinating to feel the little pushes…

“Good.” Effie grinned. “Oh, and don’t be mad but I talked to Plutarch and I will be in charge of the wedding. Haltman says I can as long as I don’t get too worked up about everything and I get proper rest. But _seriously_ , Haymitch, they were going to leave the general organization to _Plutarch_ and as much as I respect him, a wedding simply _shouldn’t_ be planned by a Gamemaker. It’s absolutely ghastly and…”

“Wait, slow down. What wedding?” It was the first time he heard about a wedding and his mind immediately jumped to the kids. “If they think about forcing Katniss and Peeta to…”

“Don’t be stupid.” Johanna snorted. “Finnick and Annie are getting hitched.”

“And I will be in charge of the _whole_ thing!” Effie squealed.

“Which actually pleases her more than the actual _wedding_.” Seven’s victor rolled her eyes. “It goes to show how much of an egocentric bitch she is.”

“Finnick and Annie are getting married and no one tells me?” he frowned, although that wasn’t the important point, he figured. “You’re _not_ going back to work until that kid is born.”

Effie’s face hardened like it always did before a fight. “Johanna, could you give us a minute, please?”

“But that’s the interesting part!” the young woman whined.

“Jo, _out_.” he barked. They heard her cursing well after she had left the room. Haymitch made a mental note to make sure she didn’t spend _too much_ time with Katniss. He didn’t need her to influence the girl, he already had enough troubles keeping her in line. “Haltman said you were on bed rest until further notice. How are you going to organize a wedding from your bed?”

“She says I can finally get out of bed in a few days.” Effie snapped. “I did ask her opinion, I am not stupid.”

“Aren’t you?” he mocked. “’Cause the way I see it, sweetheart, you almost lost the kid because everything was too much for you to handle and now you…”

“Don’t you _dare_ imply it was my fault.” she hissed. “My body…”

“Your body is a very convenient excuse.” he retorted. “Truth is you can’t wait to get out of here because you’re bored and you’re not thinking about the baby. You’re _selfish_.”

She didn’t like the accusation. A dangerous glint shined in her eyes. “We are talking about _my_ body.”

“We are talking about _our_ unborn child and if you can see the difference then I’m sorry.” he scoffed. “It’s easy for you. You’re the one being there unconscious when _I_ ’m the one in the corridor wondering if your death will finally be the one to _destroy what’s left of me._ ”

Her eyes widened and she gaped but he turned around and hurried out before he could say something else he didn’t intend to.

He didn’t come back to the hospital.

He sulked for days and, as several people pointed out very openly : it _was_ truly ridiculous. He almost gave up and went to see her once but he was informed right at that moment that she actually _was_ holding briefings about the wedding in her room, meeting several times a day with Annie and exchanging messages with Plutarch about the general organization. Apparently, she _could_ do that from her bed and no one seemed to understand why it was a problem for him.

Perhaps none of them knew Effie like he did. She had the nasty habit of getting worked up over the smallest thing and he didn’t see how that would help her not getting upset.

He stood his ground and stayed clear of the hospital. It didn’t mean he had stopped checking up on her, simply that he now did so through Finnick and Plutarch.

Even though, he had a shock when he came back to his room five days after the fight to find a very pregnant Effie back in their bed, surrounded by papers, very obviously waiting for him. She glanced up when he walked in and gathered her notes as if it was completely normal.

“What are you doing here?” he barked, wondering if hers and Johanna’s half-cooked plans about breaking out of the hospital had finally been put into motions. He wouldn’t have been surprised to know Katniss had been involved if that was the case. The three of them were equally sick and tired with the white walls, the helpful nurses and the sullen doctors.

“I live here.” she replied. “Or are we separated now? If that’s the case, I’m afraid _you_ will have to go and ask to be assigned a new compartment. After all, I couldn’t be expected to know since you haven’t talked to me in days. The baby and I are fine by the way, thank you for asking.”

She was very, _very_ angry. He could see it clearly at the way she was neatly piling sheet of paper after sheet of paper and at the clipped accent in her voice. She had some nerves being angry, he thought.

“Why aren’t you in the hospital?” he insisted.

“Avoiding the main problem, aren’t we? How unsurprising.” she scoffed. “Doctor Haltman said I could go. Usual precautions apply : I am not supposed to overdo it, I am supposed to lie down at least two hours in the mornings and two to three hours in the afternoon, I am to report to the hospital at the smallest sign of pain or discomfort… Should I keep reciting the list or should I directly go to the rule about trying not to get too upset that is very hard to follow since the father of my child has been distinctly absent from my life for the past few days?”

“I’m not going to stand by and watch while you exhaust yourself to death and my kid with it.” he retorted, finally closing the door behind him. What was he supposed to do? Head out? Avoid her forever? He shed his shirt and tossed it to the floor with an irritation that only grew when she glared at him.

“On a side note to our current argument, I expect you to clean this room, Haymitch. I won’t live in a pigsty.” she hissed, staring pointedly at the heaps of dirty clothes scattered all around – she had been absent for two weeks and he hadn’t been keeping it up to her standards; she was such a neat freak, he was almost surprised she hadn’t already cleaned it. “More to the point, if you had listened to me instead of storming out like the uncivilized ruffian you are, I would have told you that Doctor Haltman agreed to me organizing the wedding because being idle was actually more stressful to me than working. She says that as far as I follow her rules and don’t go anywhere near Command, I should be fine.” She carefully placed her papers on the floor next to her side of the bed. “Besides, helping Finnick and Annie makes me happy and being happy is important when you’re pregnant.”

“How handy.” he spat, pulling his shirt over his head and dropping it to the floor just to annoy her. His pants and dirty underwear soon joined it. “What about me? Who cares what I want, right, sweetheart?”

He marched in the small en-suite bathroom and directly into the shower. The water was lukewarm, as it always was. He didn’t even know _why_ he was so aggravated about the whole wedding thing… Of course, Effie needed something to keep busy with. He had been the first to say bed rest would drive her crazy so it wasn’t a surprise. And yet…

“Are you done having a temper tantrum?” she asked, leaning against the sink. He didn’t answer. “Seriously, Haymitch, you’re about to have a child, I think it’s a cue for you to stop acting like one.” He turned his back on her and stared at the grey wall, trying to sort through the mess in his head. It was harder than it used to be without alcohol, his brain was sometimes slow. It frustrated him. He heard her sigh and then, a few minutes later, bare arms wrapped around his middle from behind, he could feel the round belly gently pressing against the small of his back. “Must we fight? I promise you I will be more careful. I will stop if it’s too much and I will rest and…” She sighed again. “I can’t do nothing, I am sorry, I _can’t_.”

He turned around slowly in her arms so he wouldn’t bump the baby and then he cradled her head in his hands and kissed her. He hadn’t kissed her since before the “accident” – as he had come to dubbed it in his mind – two weeks earlier. She responded eagerly and it made him feel better, more peaceful, something uncoiled in his stomach. He felt himself relax gradually and that was when he realized how tensed he had been for the past few days.

“I can’t watch you die.” It was a whisper, barely audible over the steady stream of the shower.

“Everything will be just fine.” Effie promised even though she had no real power over the course of events. “You made a deal with the baby, do you remember?”

A stupid deal that meant even less than her promise. But he nodded anyway and he let her guide his head to the crook of her neck. He held her tight, as tight as he could with the pregnant belly between them, and swore to himself he would never let go. Whatever happened, however it happened, he would protect Effie and that baby to his last breath. He hadn’t been able to save his family back in the days but that new one would remain alive and kicking.

“We should go to bed.” Effie said finally, turning the tap off. “We have the ultrasound tomorrow. They wanted to do it today but I told them I wanted you there.”

He simply nodded and followed her out of the bathroom, picking up his dirty clothes while she got ready for bed. She was wearing one of his shirt like she usually did to sleep but the fabric was stretched over her belly.

“We need to get you new clothes.” he commented.

“What I wouldn’t give for pretty maternity dresses…” she lamented wistfully. “Imagine everything I am missing…”

The very thought made him shudder. “Ridiculous ugly things, no doubt.”

“You are an insufferable man and I don’t know why I keep you.” she huffed with fondness.

He switched off the light and climbed into bed. Usually she was the one who snuggled up to him but, this once, he placed his head on her chest and a hand on her stomach. He wanted to keep them close, make sure nothing would happen to them during the night. And yet the nagging voice in the back of his mind wouldn’t shut up. “It’s not safe for you to sleep with me…”

“You never hurt me, you know.” she replied tentatively, dropping a quick kiss on the top of his head. “Sometimes when you dream… You grab my arm but when I say your name, when you hear my voice, you always let me go. You know I am here and you know who I am, even in your nightmares.”

It wasn’t a reassuring thought. “You still get out of the bed if I start to thrash, yeah?”

She promised and he trusted her to handle him when he was unconscious so he didn’t press the point. She was a light sleeper, even more so now that she couldn’t take sleeping pills, she would wake up if he had a nightmare.

As a matter of fact, he shouldn’t have worried because sleep eluded him that night. He kept thinking about the ultrasound, not knowing what to expect, wondering if the baby he could regularly feel moving under his hand was a boy or a girl, trying to keep his growing curiosity in check… It didn’t matter if it was a boy or a girl, as long as he managed to keep the kid alive.

He told as much to Effie the next morning when she clutched his hand while Haltman prepared her for the actual ultrasound.

“Well, of course.” she huffed as if he was being stupid. Given the amused smile on Haltman’s lips, maybe he was.

The now familiar image appeared on the screen. It looked more like a real baby this time and the heartbeat was just as strong and regular as he remembered although it didn’t fill him with the same sense of dread. The doctor searched for the best angle and finally looked at them with a victorious glance. “Ready to know?”

He wasn’t sure but he nodded all the same and, for a few minutes, he didn’t know who was clinging to whom because he was sure he was holding Effie’s hand so tight it must have hurt.

“It’s a boy.” Haltman said.

The words rang in his ears so long he didn’t follow the doctor’s explanation or what she was pointing out on the screen. A boy… He had really thought it would be a girl. They could have dealt with a girl better but a boy… He didn’t have much experience with his own father, his memories of him were blurry at best, doing a better job that he had done wouldn’t be hard. _A boy_. They were having a boy.

“Haymitch?” Effie laughed, nudging his arm. He startled and realized that the ultrasound was over – had been over for several minutes really – and that Effie was dressed again and ready to go back to their room. She watched him with a puzzled and a little wary expression. “Are you happy?”

Happy… Happy was so foreign a feeling he wouldn’t have recognized it if it had hit him in the face. Was he happy? He wasn’t _unhappy_ certainly. There was a warm fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach that somehow echoed the ecstatic grin on Effie’s lips.

“Yeah.” he replied tentatively, almost interrogative. Her grin morphed into a knowing smile and she pressed her lips against his briefly. It couldn’t really have been called a kiss but it was enough. It meant she was right there and they would be as all right as they could.

During the following week, his entire focus was on the development of ideas to take the Capitol. He was so engrossed in the task, the wedding was the last of his worries – unlike Plutarch who seemed delighted with the promise of a social event; he and Effie were always laughing together, throwing ideas and annoying Haymitch to no end, mainly because the Gamemaker invaded their already few private moments together. Nevertheless, Haymitch mused, you would think he would have been made aware that another trip to Twelve – involving Katniss – had been planned and that their escort was supposed to go with Annie and their Mockingjay.

“Absolutely not.” he fumed, pacing the length of their small room back and forth.

“It is perfectly safe.” Effie replied, almost bored. She was scribbling on her notepad, she was always making lists nowadays : lists of what needed to be done before the baby came, lists of what Katniss or Peeta could need, lists of baby names they still didn’t have time to look at together, lists about what she had to complete in time for the wedding… He wondered how she could see anything over her now very protuberant stomach. “Twelve is under Thirteen’s control and there will be a medic in the hovercraft in case something happens. Plutarch said it was for Katniss but… Well, we don’t need to tell President Coin it is for me.”

“It’s not the point, Effie.” he snapped. “Two weeks ago you were on a hospital bed and now you want to go and have a shopping outing?”

She sighed, put her pen down and looked up at him. “Haymitch, I will be safe. Haltman is alright with it. I will sit all the time we spend in Katniss’ house, all I need is to look at dresses. Annie is getting married, she deserves a lovely dress for her special day.”

“Twelve is destroyed. It’s full of corpses and…” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had only seen the images through a screen but he had heard what the refugees had to say about it. He had sat through a painful vivid account from Hazelle Hawthorne’s lips, he had awkwardly patted Graesy Sae’s back while she sobbed… “You’re not going anywhere without me and I’m not going to Twelve without enough alcohol to drown my brain with.”

“You don’t have to come with me.” she said gently. “It’s safe. And it is decided, I _am_ going. Perhaps I can retrieve something from your house for you? You must have personal items you wish you had taken with you…”

There _were_ personal items he didn’t have the foresight to take with him on Reaping Day but he wasn’t ready to face a devastated Twelve for them. “You’re not going.”

She watched him, tilting her head slightly. “To be perfectly honest, I need to get out of here, Haymitch. I can’t wait to breathe fresh air again.”

“I can take you to the surface if you want fresh air.” he grumbled. “There will be nothing _fresh_ in Twelve. It will reek of rot.”

“They sent a crew to dispose of the bodies.” she informed him quietly. “Didn’t you know that?”

He did. Perhaps. He wasn’t sure. He tended to distance himself each time Twelve came up in conversations but _of course_ they had sent people to dispose of the bodies from the main part of town now that they were controlling the other Districts. They needed Twelve as a hovercraft base after all and they couldn’t do that with the rotten bodies to distract the soldiers.

“I don’t want to go.” Haymitch snarled.

“And I’m not asking you to.” Effie shrugged. “Katniss will be there. We will have a protection team and a medic. The baby and I will be just fine.”

She put her notepad away and laid down before switching off the lights, effectively deciding the discussion was over. It wasn’t over for him but there was no arguing with her anymore. He couldn’t shout at her when her round stomach was hitting him in the face. She looked too vulnerable, too… He stormed out and slammed the door loudly behind him, knowing he wouldn’t sleep anyway.

He spent the night in Command, dodging Boggs’ question and tentative advising – the man had a kid of his own somewhere in Thirteen but Haymitch wasn’t in any mood to discuss paternity. When the time for the hovercraft departure for Twelve came, he was standing awkwardly by the doors, his shaking hands hidden in his pockets.

Katniss was the first to appear. She frowned as soon as she saw him. “You’re coming with us?”

“Obviously.” he spat.

Effie arrived with Annie, chatting the victor’s ear off as was her habit. The younger woman didn’t seem to mind though, sometimes nodding and sometimes staring at nothing. Blue eyes met his in surprise that soon morphed into concern.

“Haymitch, you really don’t have to come.” Effie promised, grabbing his arm. “I swear I will be fine.”

“You’re barely six months pregnant with my child and there is a war out there.” he hissed. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

A flicker of annoyance flashed on her face and she sighed with disappointment before turning to Katniss. “Do you think you could manage without me?”

“But you were looking forward to this so much…” Katniss rolled her eyes. “That’s stupid, Haymitch. I can take care of her.”

“Like you took care of Peeta?” he retorted. He felt guilty when he saw the pain on her face, it would have been kinder to slap her. He regretted his words at once but the prospect of visiting the ruins of his life, ruins he had been responsible for, without anything to dull the ache was making him nasty. She climbed in the hovercraft without an answer, Annie on her heels.

“That was completely unnecessary.” Effie glared at him. “Come or don’t come, I don’t care.”

“Yeah, you made that painfully obvious, sweetheart.” he sneered. She didn’t even look at him. She walked into that hovercraft as if she owned it and she still looked regal despite the fact that her round belly was starting to make her wobble. “You look like a penguin!” he shouted after her.

She didn’t acknowledge that either. She sat next to Katniss and whispered to her softly, so low he couldn’t hear it. Then again, he was banished to the other side, too far away from the girls to be able to talk to them or follow their discussion. He closed his eyes when the hovercraft started humming and he forced himself to breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth just as his useless doctor had taught him during the worst of his withdrawal.

The urge to drink, the despair for the slow burn of alcohol was the same as ever. His mind, his body… Everything was screaming at him that _he couldn’t make it_ without a bottle and that he had been stupid to even try. He should have remained in Thirteen where the destruction couldn’t get to him. Never mind Effie and her reckless obsession for fashion. She would do anything just to touch a haute-couture dress again, let her… What did he care? He didn’t. Not in the slightest.

“You shouldn’t have come.”

He startled.

He had been so focused on his nightmarish thoughts that he hadn’t heard Effie switching places with the soldier next to him. A glance around the hovercraft told him Katniss was busy talking with Annie, the latter often covering her ears for unexplained reasons. Haymitch wished it was that simple for him. Covering his ears or his eyes would never have been enough protection.

“You shouldn’t have left.” He rubbed a shaking hand against his face. She caught it before he could hide it in his pocket again, she clasped it between both of hers and stroke it soothingly. It reminded him of his withdrawal when she had been assigned to his bedside because Katniss was still recovering and she was still his escort despite everything. Taking care of them was her job. It seemed it would always be her job.

“You can stay in the hovercraft.” Effie murmured. “Nobody will think less of you for that.”

He could, he realized, because he had never cared much about what people thought about him anyway. Haymitch was curious, though, that had always been his greatest flaw. He was curious and now that he was in Twelve, he needed to _see_. He had no sand to bury his head in anymore.

Instead of answering her, he placed his trembling fingers on her bump. He tried the usual spots but he couldn’t feel anything.

“He’s sleeping.” Effie hummed with that now familiar note of fondness. She glowed each time she was speaking about the baby. “You know, Doctor Haltman said he will be starting to recognize voices by now so we need to talk to him as often as we can.”

“I’m not talking to your stomach.” he snorted.

“Of course, you are.” she huffed. “How else is he supposed to know you are his Daddy?”

He was struck by the term. He always was peeved by her casualness when using that word. He looked out the window instead, recognizing Twelve’s familiar outlines – or what used to be familiar. The smoke had cleared weeks ago but the damages were still plain to the eye.

_I did this_ , he thought. He had stroke the girl on fire’s flames until it became a blaze and the blaze had consumed his home.

“Maybe it would be a good thing if he didn’t.” he mumbled. What had he ever done in his existence apart destroying people’s lives?

“It wasn’t your doing. You’re not responsible for what happened to Twelve.” She forced his hand to remain on her stomach when he tried to take it away. “You are very much responsible for our baby. Think about our baby. Think about how wonderful he will be.”

He could be, Haymitch thought. They could raise him to be a better person than his parents ever were. They could raise him to never do the same mistakes they did.

“What if we fuck him up?” he asked. “’Cause let’s face it, Princess, you and me, we’re not role models.”

She placed a hand on his cheek and kissed him. He understood why : there was no good answer to that question that wasn’t a lie. They only had each other and that didn’t mean a lot. He didn’t mind the few snickers of the soldiers or Katniss’ exasperated sigh faced with proofs of affection that should be, according to her, kept in their bedroom. It was a tame enough kiss for them so he glared at the teenager as soon as Effie let go of his lips.

He didn’t stay in the hovercraft like she suggested several times but took the fifteen minutes walk to the Victors’ village with them. It was as bad as he thought it would be and he spent the entire hike nastily badgering Effie for forcing him to face that devastation. She took it willingly until she didn’t and started answering back. He welcomed the familiar bickering, it was a much needed distraction to the ruins.

He didn’t even bother going inside Katniss’ house, only reminding Effie to sit down before storming to his own house. It was eerie how the village was the same as ever. His house was unchanged, everything was covered with a thick layer of dust but that was the only difference. Hazelle must have come by after the Quell Reaping because the dishes were done and everything looked tidier than he could be bothered to keep it.

There was no alcohol to find in the house but he looked in his usual hideouts all the same. Walking on the creaking floorboards, wandering aimlessly in the house was strange. He wasn’t the same man who left it all those months ago. He had changed. They had all changed.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when he finally gathered the courage to enter the place he always avoided at all costs : the study. He had told Hazelle not to bother with that room, he preferred the door closed, everything it contained was better out of sight, safe from his drunken raging. Still, he went in this time because he had faced so much of his personal demons by that point he didn’t think a few more would make any difference.

The study was just as he remembered it : crammed with boxes overflowing with clothes dating from his Victory Tour and what pieces of furniture had been saved from the fire that burned down his old house. He walked to the chest of drawers at the other side of the room, careful not to touch anything, not to disrupt the thick coat of dust. That place was like a tomb and it should have remained that way.

He retrieved the key taped to the side of the drawers and opened it, feeling his throat close up at the sight of the few objects scattered in it. The last item he had ever added was on top, it was a large picture of he and Effie, he had placed it in that particular drawer of memories better locked away on a whim. He remembered that day particularly well because they had been made to pose for hours and the photographer was never happy, yet the result was their best promotional shoot in all the time they had worked together. He was smirking at her and she was pursing her lips in annoyance, it had somehow managed to capture the teasing side of their relationship. He turned it and her delicate flowing handwriting was still there : _See how good we look when you’re not drunk and I’m not infuriated?_. He pocketed the picture, thinking that maybe the kid would want it someday.

There was another picture in there, he pocketed it as well but he didn’t look at it. It had been yellowed by time and the corners were all creased. It was a family picture, the only one they ever got. He was twelve in it and his brother was barely two, his mother’s hair had already turned grey. It had been his token once upon a time, the only reason why it didn’t burn in the fire.

He brushed his fingers against the lock of soft dark hair held together by a frayed pink ribbon but he didn’t take that with him. His girl’s mementoes belonged in that house, in Twelve.  

“Haymitch?” The call was distant but the voice was undeniably Effie’s. He didn’t answer her at once, not certain he wanted her in that place. Effie _was_ Effie however and it didn’t take long for her to find him. “There you are. Look at what I found! Katniss says I can keep it, her mother won’t mind.” She showed him the content of a black bag that seemed to be full of… blue yarn. He didn’t know what was so extraordinary about blue yarn. His lack of reaction must have been telling because she rolled her eyes. “I will be able to knit a blanket for the baby! Isn’t that wonderful? And touch it – wait, no, don’t touch it, your hands are all dirty – but if you could only feel how soft it is! Oh, it will be just marvelous…”

She rambled on and on until he couldn’t take it anymore. “Aren’t you supposed to be sitting?”

“I sat for _hours_.” She sounded defensive like always when he hinted she wasn’t being careful enough. “Annie found a lovely green dress. We are ready to leave actually. Are you?” She glanced at the open drawer inquisitively, her eyes immediately resting on the lock of hair.

At a loss for what to do and desperate to avoid awkward explanations, he grabbed one of the three items left, a golden ring with a huge purple flower on it. He had bought it right after he had won his Games but before he had climbed back on the train that had brought him back to Twelve. Chaff, Seeder and Mags had taken him on a tour of the city and he had been both amazed and disgusted by the decadence of it all. Still, he had bought gifts for his family unaware that he would never see them again. His mother never had anything pretty so he had bought her a ring, the very same he was holding. Her name was Iris, he had it custom-made so the gems would look as closely to an actual iris as possible – the jeweler had only been too happy to comply, anything for their new darling victor. He had bought a different one for his girl – but he didn’t even take that out of the drawer – it had been intended to be her wedding ring, it didn’t seem right to let Effie see it.

“Do you want this?” he asked her, shoving the ring at her. It was tame-down for a Capitol jewel but it was still extravagant by District standards.

Effie’s eyes immediately filled up with tears.

“It’s so pretty…” she whispered, delicately rubbing the dust away. “I haven’t seen anything so pretty in months.” She looked up at him but he averted his eyes, ill-at-ease. “Who did it belong to?”

“Nobody.” he shrugged. “It was supposed to be for my mother but… You know.” She studied the ring in silence, it unnerved him. “Look, if you don’t want it…”

“No.” She pressed it against her chest as if she was afraid he would try to pry it away from her fingers. “I apologize, it’s just… Would she like me to have it? I can’t imagine she would be delighted with the idea of a Capitol woman being… whatever I am to you.”

It was dangerous territory. Haymitch didn’t like to wander the realm of feelings. What his mother would have wanted or not, he couldn’t honestly say. It had been so long since her death that all that was left were memories of her dulled by too much alcohol consumption.

“You have a good heart. That’s all she would have cared about.” he replied awkwardly.

“And I love you. I don’t think she would have objected to that.” She smiled quietly but it didn’t soften the blow. It was the first time she had openly said that and it sent him into a panic. “Oh, don’t look so taken aback. We’re a little past the denial stage, aren’t we?” she joked, sliding the ring on her finger and placing her hand on her stomach. There was something calming about the sight. As if he had done the right thing for once. “Do you think she would have approved of me?”

He didn’t understand why it was so important for her. Would his mother have approved of him impregnating a Capitol woman out of wedlock in the middle of a war he had sort of started? That seemed like a stupid question but it was him Iris would have smacked on the back of the head and not Effie.

“Sure, sweetheart.” he lied.

He didn’t look back when they left the house and began the slow walk to the hovercraft. He didn’t think he would ever come back there. It was too painful. He couldn’t help but feel, each time he glanced at Effie’s stomach, that the house and the District belonged to another chapter of his life, one that was now closed.

The wedding was a tremendous success.

Haymitch was happy for his friends when he watched Finnick and Annie dancing slowly, whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ear and sharing private smiles.

“Are you going to finish that?” Effie asked, appearing at his side suddenly. He hadn’t seen her since the very beginning of the wedding, when cameras had started to roll. They had never discussed the fact that she shouldn’t be filmed in her condition – he didn’t need Snow to learn she was pregnant with his child, he truly _didn’t_ – but she was smart and she had remained right by Plutarch’s side, behind the scenes.

He wordlessly handed her his plate. “How many pieces of that cake did you already have?”

“Four.” she replied shamelessly, stealing the fork right from his hand. “I’m eating for two.” The last part was added defensively.

“You’re going to burst.” he snorted. “You got bigger again.”

It was strange to think her stomach was barely bulging a few weeks ago, she was now very obviously pregnant. She looked down at the round bump with a frown.

“Doctor Haltman says my body finally accepted the pregnancy…” she explained hesitantly. “I’m six months pregnant, some women are bigger.” And yet, given the way she was unconsciously tapping the fork against the side of the plate, she was now debating eating that piece of cake or not.

“You’re still pretty, Princess.” he rolled his eyes. “Eat.”

She tilted her head to stare at him. “Do you really think that?”

“Are you fishing for compliments now?” he snorted. “You’re the prettiest woman in this room, as you’re very well aware.”

Although given the way she looked around and placed a hand on her stomach, maybe she didn’t.

“I think you are blind.” Effie chuckled. “But I also like it better that way.”

He couldn’t help his smirk each time she moaned around a mouthful of chocolate.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you like that cake better than me.” he mocked.

“Perhaps I do.” she grinned.

“I’m hurt.” He stole a small piece of cake, ignoring her protests about him touching her food with his dirty fingers.

“It’s not my fault, the baby is crazy for chocolate.” she replied, rubbing her bump. “See? He’s been kicking ever since the cake appeared.”

He placed his own hand on hers. He liked feeling his kicks – Effie was less fond of it by now, she was always complaining the child was as inconsiderate of her comfort as his father – he sometimes spent entire nights with his hand on her stomach, waiting for the baby to do something. Now that he was used to it, he thought the pregnancy wasn’t so bad. He wouldn’t mind if it remained like that forever. The baby was nicely protected by Effie’s body which was a lot more easier to keep safe than a screaming infant. There was no risk of doing the wrong thing or dropping him or of someone kidnapping him…

“Because he knows his mom is a nutcase. Maybe you’re crushing him with chocolate cake.” he joked.

“Your understanding of human anatomy will always baffle me.” she retorted disdainfully. “My son doesn’t think I’m a nutcase. My son happens to be a perfect gentleman, aren’t you, sweetie?” She cooed the last part to her stomach.

“Not with me for a father, he isn’t.” He patted the bump gently and very carefully, smiling when he felt the answering movements under his hand. _Vibration_ , Haltman had said. He reacted to his voice too if Haymitch spoke close enough to her stomach. “I will teach him how to make you go mad.”

“Not even in your wildest dreams.” There was a dangerous glint in her eyes. “There will be no teaming up against me.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” he winked. He was sure there would be a lot of teaming up on every side.

She huffed but let the matter drop, choosing instead to watch the newlyweds dance. They remained silent for a while and he wasn’t surprised when she leaned her head against his shoulder.

“I think it’s time for bed.” she stifled a yawn behind her hand.

Her other hand was resting on his thigh. He played with the ring absent-mindedly, making the big flower turn this way and that. “Don’t wait for me, I told Katniss I would take her to see Peeta.”

“Oh.” She turned her hand and entwined their fingers. “Do you want me to come with you?”

It wouldn’t be pleasant, that much Haymitch was sure. Peeta had made a lot of progress but he still wasn’t… _Peeta_.

“It’s okay. I can deal with it.” He wasn’t entirely sure but they had to start somewhere – and he didn’t want Effie near Peeta as long as he wasn’t absolutely _certain_ the boy wouldn’t snap again. “Go to bed.”

“Alright…” She gave up too easily, he mused, she must have been more tired than she was letting on. She pecked him on the corner of his mouth and walked away, stopping only to congratulate Four’s victors once again. He watched as hugs were exchanged and she walked away with a happy smile on her face.

She might have been bigger than ever but, to him, no woman could hold a candle to her in that room. She was beautiful. And she was _his_.

He was feeling awfully sentimental that night…

It probably was a good thing that there was no free access to bread or roaring fires.


	5. Chapter 5

“I just don’t see why they had to send her out there.” Effie hissed, stabbing a piece of tomato with her fork. “Katniss isn’t a soldier and I really don’t think three weeks of training were enough to make her one. They refused Johanna, for goodness sake!”

Finding out that Katniss had been shipped to the front lines before she could even say goodbye had been hard for Effie. The idea that the girl would find herself in real war situations before long was even worse. They had kept everything from her – they _still_ were keeping almost everything from her – in an attempt at preventing her from getting unnecessarily upset which, as she had pointed out several times, only made her even _more_ upset. Haltman had vetoed all her requests to be allowed back in Command and Coin didn’t want her there anyway. She wasn’t even allowed to help Plutarch with propos. All she could do was lie on her bed all day wondering what was happening out there and knit – _that_ everyone was only too happy to let her do in peace.

“They want victors on camera.” Haymitch shrugged, not fazed by her irritation. He kept shoveling everything he could in his mouth, keeping an eye on his communicuff. He was in Command more than he was with her those days. “They want to show we’re fighting.”

She dropped her fork. It clattered to the ground, the dining hall was almost deserted now that the soldiers had departed for the Capitol and the sound echoed, causing some heads to turn their way. Haymitch frowned at her, bending to get the cutlery back from the floor. “I mean _pretty_ victors, sweetheart. They don’t care about the likes of me, don’t get your knickers into a twist. At best they will film me in Command…”

She breathed more easily but she still placed her hands on her stomach protectively. She was at twenty-eight weeks now, in the middle of her seventh month, and the risks of labor starting because of shock was a concern given the difficulties she had experienced during the early stages of her pregnancy.

“I don’t want you on the front lines.” she begged. “Please, don’t…”

He forced the fork back into her hand and waved at her plate to indicate she should go back to eating. She didn’t. He wasn’t looking at her in the eye and she knew what that meant. “I might have to go later. Not to fight but… Command will move to the Capitol during the last stages. It should be secure enough by then.”

“No.” She shook her head. “What if something happens? What if…”

“Effie.” he cut her off. “That’s precisely why I don’t want you to think about the war. You’re getting upset.”

“I’m _worried_.” she retorted. “How could I not be? I don’t know what’s happening _at all_. Katniss and Finnick are out there, Johanna is raving about wanting to join them and fight, you’re keeping me away from Peeta and…”

“And the Capitol might burn to the ground.” he said harshly. “It’s your home. You’re sure you want to witness that?”

She turned her head away to hide the burning tears in her eyes. No, she didn’t want to watch the city burn. However, she also wanted to know what was happening to her friends more than she wished to bury her head in the sand. “Katniss shouldn’t be out there.”

“She wanted to go.” he sighed, catching her hand and squeezing it comfortingly.

“Yes, she also wanted to go to Eight and to Two.” Effie gritted her teeth. “Remind me, how great of an idea did that turn out to be?”

She pushed her plate of food away and tried to storm out. Her exit would probably have been more spectacular if she hadn’t been wobbling like a penguin. As it was, Haymitch had all the time in the world to take their trays back and to catch up with her before she even reached the dinner hall doors.

“What did you want me to do?” he growled. “She’s the face of this rebellion and she’s crap at acting. We need her out there. I don’t like it more than you do.”

“I believe you.” she offered. “But if something happens to her…”

“She won’t go on dangerous missions.” he promised. “I bargained that much. Trust me a little, won’t you!”

He walked away before she could answer. She pondered the reproachful request in her mind for the following hours, furiously knitting her frustration away. An old woman from Twelve, Graesy Sae, had found her more wool – Effie hadn’t asked how because, as she had come to understand, Graesy Sae had very much been involved in black markets her whole life and that wasn’t tolerated in Thirteen. She liked the old District woman very much, she had known Haymitch since he was little and was never short on embarrassing stories. Effie wasn’t sure what had made her seek her out, if it was at Haymitch’s request to keep her from getting too bored or if that had been her own idea since Katniss’ mother was always in the hospital nowadays, but she was glad for the distraction. She didn’t have a lot of friends in that place and most of them were now gone.

She visited Annie sometimes, the younger woman was kept as far away from any possible information as she was. They weren’t even allowed to watch TV – not that there was anything worth watching anyway.

All in all, the only thing Effie could do was wait.

Wait for the war to end, wait for Katniss to come back, wait to be allowed back in the Capitol where she would be able to look for her family… _Wait_.

Effie Trinket wasn’t made for waiting.

She felt as if she was in prison. Following the precise schedule on her wrist had become an unbearable chore: every morning she woke up, placed her arm under the scan, went to breakfast, checked in with Doctor Haltman when requested or otherwise tried to find a way to waste time before lunch, wasted more time until dinner time and went to bed only to start all over again the next morning.

Days melted into each other. It felt endless. She felt trapped.

Haymitch came and went irregularly, so exhausted all he could do sometimes was stumbling to bed. His beard became shabbier and shabbier until she threatened to shave it off in his sleep. One day, he didn’t have the energy to protest anymore so she sat him down and shaved it for him. He looked even more tired and lost than usual. When she was done, he leaned his forehead against her stomach and placed both of his hands on each side of the baby bump. He didn’t say anything, that was how she knew something had gone wrong.

“Tell me.” she demanded quietly, preparing herself for the worst.

She thought he would refuse to answer but he simply closed his eyes and turned his head so his cheek would be against her baby bump instead. “One of Katniss’ teammates died. They sent Peeta to fill the spot.”

“ _What_?” She grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back to look at him but Haymitch wouldn’t meet her eyes. He was hunched, she felt his despair even before he ran a shaking hand in his dirty hair.

“Coin’s orders.” he spat. “They didn’t tell me until he was gone.”

“But Katniss…” she objected at once. If they had assigned Peeta to Katniss’ team, it was just a matter of time before…

“Yeah.” he sighed. “Yeah…” That wouldn’t end well. One of them would kill the other. Guilt and regret flashed on his face. “I shouldn’t have told you. You shouldn’t be thinking about that, sweetheart.”

“Oh, would you let me forget that for a second!” she huffed. “What can we do? Certainly there is something…”

“I spoke to Katniss on the phone.” he sighed. “She’s… I don’t know. It’s like she wants him to attack her so she can have an excuse to… It’s another arena but we can’t do anything for them this time.”

So they were back to watching, powerless, while their tributes victors turned soldiers tried to avoid getting slaughtered. Well… _Haymitch_ was back to watching. She was condemned to wait by herself for someone to come and tell her the bad news.

“You need to rest.” she declared because there was nothing else to say. He let her steer him into bed and he fell asleep with his head against her stomach, apparently finding some comfort in hearing the baby move around. She wondered if it was because their son, on the contrary of Katniss and Peeta, was as safe as he could be.

He was gone when she woke up and she didn’t see him again for days. Her path crossed Plutarch’s one morning. He greeted her as pleasantly as he always did but he looked as haggard as Haymitch did nowadays, with an uncharacteristic five o’clock shadow covering half of his face, eyes shining with exhaustion and a tired smile. He told her they had finally brought out their stock of coffee. It wasn’t reassuring.

Neither was the news Annie imparted on her a little while later, at lunch. She forced herself to smile and congratulate the younger woman, she even answered her questions about pregnancy to the best of her abilities but her mind was elsewhere. She couldn’t shake off a feeling of foreboding that only grew when Johanna slumped on a chair next to her.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Seven’s victor asked without bothering with greetings. “I mean _really_ , not the crap they’re selling on TV.”

Effie and Annie exchanged a glance. “About what?”

Johanna seemed to realize they didn’t know anything and rolled her eyes. “They’re still keeping you in the dark? That’s so _fucking_ stupid…”

“Jo.” Annie said softly, rocking slowly on her chair. She was getting distressed. “Is it about Finnick?”

Johanna’s face hardened. “Ask Haymitch. The Capitol declared them all dead.” Annie let out a long whine and pressed her hands against her ears before rocking back and forth, muttering a jumbled sentence under her breath. Effie glared at Seven’s victor but the woman only shrugged defensively. “Someone had to tell her.”

Effie stepped around the table, forcing herself to keep her own fears and distress at bay, she hugged Annie as best as she could with her large stomach. “If anything had happened to them, they would have told us.” she promised. “They wouldn’t keep that from us. They wouldn’t.”

“I think they’re waiting for confirmation.” Johanna cut in.

Effie failed at calming Annie down and, in the end, they had to call a medical team. She visited her in the hospital for two days but Four’s victor wouldn’t talk, she was staring into nothing, sometimes humming what seemed to be a lullaby.

Haymitch finally reappeared on the third day following up on Johanna’s tactlessly delivered news. He looked worn out, he reeked of cold sweat and she was sure he hadn’t showered since the last time he had left their room. She wasn’t even sure he was eating.

She was already lying down when he sat heavily next to her on the bed.

“I just talked to Annie.” he said. He didn’t need to explain further. He rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his shaking hands, his breathing was loud and quick. She didn’t say anything because she knew that no words would ever comfort him; she sat up, leaned her cheek against his shoulder blade and let her own tears fall silently.

Finnick had always been special. He had been so young when he became a victor… He had won around the time Effie had started working as an escort. He was the first victor she had truly befriended and he had always been such a sweet boy… He had worn his way through Haymitch’s heavy walls and she knew how deeply he had cared for the younger man. Haymitch had always been very careful when choosing his friends, he had few of them and each one was precious to him.

His pain was so obvious she could almost feel it herself. He didn’t cry – or at least she didn’t think he did, she couldn’t see his face – but his whole body shook with suppressed sorrow. If there had been any alcohol available in Thirteen, she knew without a doubt that he would have drunk until he’d pass out that night.

“Katniss and Peeta?” she asked after a while. She _had_ to.

“Alive, we think. Along with Cressida, Pollux and Hawthorne.” he mumbled. “They’re behind enemies lines, we can’t reach them. I think Katniss is going for Snow.”

“Stupid child.” she hissed, closing her eyes. Katniss had never _ever_ done what they had told her to. She was always going for the reckless plan she never thought through. How could she hope to reach the Presidential Mansion unrecognized? How could she hope to get close enough to President Snow to kill him?

“Command is moving to the Capitol.” he added quickly. “I leave in four hours.”

“No.” It was firm and left no room for argument. “You’re staying in Thirteen.”

“I can’t. We talked about this.” he glanced over his shoulder but he didn’t meet her eyes. She let go of him to lean against the headboard.

“No, we didn’t.” she retorted. “You told me to stop worrying.”

“And that’s what you should do.” he grumbled.

“Well, not worrying isn’t working out for me.” she snapped.

Haymitch let out an irritated breath and stood up to undress. Given that he placed his dirty clothes in the proper hamper, she figured he was trying to pick his battles – which meant whatever she said, she wouldn’t win that one.

“If you’re leaving, I’m going with you.” She thought it was a reasonable suggestion.

“You can’t. Authorized personnel only.” He still wasn’t looking at her. She couldn’t tell if he was lying or not. “Look, I don’t like leaving you behind, sweetheart, but it will be safer for you here. You can come when it’s over.”

He disappeared in the bathroom before she could answer for what must have been the shortest shower in the history of showers. She passed the time stroking her stomach soothingly – the baby was always agitated when she was upset. She didn’t try to convince herself that everything would be alright in the end because she didn’t see how it could. She watched him slip on a clean uniform when he finally emerged from the bathroom.

“How dangerous is it really?” she asked. “And don’t lie to me, Haymitch, I hate when you do that. I can handle it.”

He pondered her question while buttoning his shirt. When he laid down next to her on the bed, she knew she wouldn’t like the answer.

“We almost control the city.” he explained. “But it’s chaos out there.”

“So it _is_ dangerous.” she hissed.

“Less than it is for the soldiers.” he shrugged, placing a hand on her stomach. “I will be with Coin. You see her risking her life elsewhere than in a shooting studio?”

The joke fell flat.

“You could die.” she whispered, her eyes burning with new tears.

He propped himself on his elbow and pressed his lips against hers. It didn’t comfort or reassure her. He sighed when she didn’t respond to the kiss and flopped down on his back.

“I have…” He checked the clock. “…two hours and a half. Let me see that list of names.”

She could have sworn she had heard him wrong. “You’re about to leave to your possible death and _now_ you want to talk about baby names?”

“Got anything better to do, sweetheart?” He lifted an eyebrow.

Admittedly, she did not.

She handed him the notepad she kept on her bedside table. “I already narrowed it down. Those are my favorites.”

He glanced at the page and snorted. “These are all Capitol names.”

“They are pretty.” She folded her arms over her chest defensively.

“How is Agapetus pretty?” He shook his head. “Sounds like asparagus. No way we’re naming our kid asparagus. And what’s that one…” He squinted at the word. “Epaphras? How is that _even_ a name, Princess?”

“It’s classy.” she huffed. “You wouldn’t recognize classy if it hit you on the back of the head.”

He didn’t gratify that with an answer. “Give me a pen.” He crossed out most of the names, muttering inanities under his breath. “Here you go. I can live with the rest. Your choice.”

She studied what was left of the list. Unsurprisingly he had vetoed every name longer than two syllables, the only ones left were : Alfwin, Orion and Helios.

“What is wrong with Humbert?” she asked out of curiosity since it was the only one with two syllables that had been crossed off.

“’Makes me think of an egg.” he mumbled, placing an arm on his eyes to block the light. He was probably supposed to rest, she guessed, not use the first hours of freedom he had in weeks to chat with her. “I don’t know why.”

“You are a very strange man.” Not that she hadn’t been aware of that before, but she had innocently thought alcohol was playing a huge part in his weirdness. “Do you like Helios? It’s an ancient word for the sun.”

“We could use a bit of light.” He shrugged carelessly.

“We’re choosing your son’s first name, could you please act like you care?” she hissed, annoyed at his detachment.

“Helios is fine.” He took the arm away from his face to look at her. His grey eyes were bloodshot but they were still as sharp as ever. “What about his last name?”

“What sort of question is that?” she frowned. “He is your son.”

“Well, he’s yours too.” he shrugged.

They stared at each other for a few seconds. Effie was the first to avert her eyes. “I’m an escort who worked for Thirteen. Either way, I’m a traitor. I don’t think Trinket will be a very popular name once the rebellion is won.”

There was a long silence.

“You’re not a traitor, Effie. You chose your team. You chose _us_.” he said quietly. “I’m proud of you for that.”

Praises were such foreign things coming from him that she immediately knew what it meant. “Stop saying your goodbyes, I don’t want to hear them.” She forced a cheerful smile on her face. “Anyway, the last name is settled. He’s your son, he should have your name. It’s traditional.”

She was expecting him to follow her back on the path of normalcy and mock her for her obsession with propriety. He didn’t.

“If anything happens, you should know I made arrangements.” he said very calmly.

She refused to listen. “Helios Abernathy. It does have a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“Legally the house is mine. I’m not sure what’s it worth but if I die, it passes down to you. You can sell it or whatever…” he continued.

She spoke louder, trying to sound happy even though tears were threatening to choke her. “I like it. Of course, now it brings the question of middle names… We should add Finnick in there. It would be a nice touch and Annie would appreciate it.”

“I have some money. That’s yours too.” Haymitch was unperturbed by her attempts at switching subjects. “I left everything with Twelve’s representatives if you…”

“Would you stop!” she shouted, pressing her hands against her ears like she had seen Annie do countless times. She was too big to curl up yet that was all she wanted to do. Curl up in a tight ball and simply… “Would you just stop…”

“Effie…” he winced awkwardly. “I’m trying to do things right…”  

“You never did anything right, now isn’t a good day to start.” she spat. “I don’t want your money, I want _you_ , you stupid man. Stay alive, that’s all I’m asking.” She laid down next to him and rested her head on his shoulder, careful of her bump. “I’m not having this baby on my own.”

He didn’t say anything at first but then he seemed to relax and started playing with her hair. “I’m not having this baby without a lot of alcohol.”

“If I catch you drinking, I will kill you.” She was only partly joking but he chuckled anyway.

Time always appeared to speed when you were dreading something. Their remaining hour together seemed to pass in a matter of seconds.

She walked him all the way to the hovercraft and managed to whisper some wish for luck to Plutarch when he stopped by them but she couldn’t find any parting words for Haymitch. He squeezed her hand once, his thumb making the flower ring turn around her finger in what had become a playful habit of his, and then he was gone. He didn’t look back.

Since there was no one left to forbid her, she spent the next twenty-four hours glued in front of a screen with Graesy Sae on one side and Delly Cartwright on the other. They were all waiting for news about Katniss, Peeta, Gale and Cressida but nothing came up. The rebels had almost complete control of the broadcast and it appeared the Capitol had already lost the war, all they were waiting for was a cease-fire and a surrender.

Effie was shocked and distressed by the images. The city was in flames in some places, refugees had taken to the streets, entire blocks were in ruins…

“You should go get some sleep, girl.” Graesy Sae said at some point. “Watching this isn’t good for you or the babe.”

However, Effie was enthralled and she remained glued in place, her eyes riveted on the screen. Sometimes, they showed some of the remaining victors : Beetee in his wheelchair bent over keyboards, Haymitch and Plutarch talking in front of a white board, Johanna walking in the still smoking ruins as if she was great conqueror – they must have shipped her to the Capitol at some point because Seven’s victor was nowhere to be found in Thirteen… But the victors they were interested in never appeared in front of a camera. Katniss and Peeta remained unseen, rumored dead.

When they showed all the children on the lawn of the Presidential Mansion, Effie had a sick feeling. She didn’t know how but she _knew_ something awful would happen – perhaps because she had spent so much time working for the Games, she knew all the tricks. She watched those silver parachutes float down and she shut her eyes as tight as she could, she hugged her bump and she forced herself to imagine she was elsewhere, somewhere safe, in Haymitch’s arms.

She heard the explosion, she never saw it. A commotion erupted around her but still she didn’t open her eyes. There was another series of explosions and more shouts around the TV, people screaming out in outrage or in distress.

It seemed to Effie as if she and Graesy Sae were the only unmoving people in the room.

“Now the war is over.” she murmured to no one in particular. The war finished as it had started : with children paying the price of blood.

The old woman didn’t answer but she patted her hand. She didn’t appear more surprised than Effie was.

Things moved very quickly after that. President Snow’s official surrender was announced a mere half an hour after the Mansion’s bombing, twenty-four hours after that Effie and Annie were in a hovercraft on its way to the Capitol – Annie because all remaining victors were requested to be there, Effie because Haymitch had pitched a fit. The rumor that Katniss and Peeta were alive was floating around, there was another, sadder, saying that Primrose was dead.

No known face greeted them at the emergency hovercrafts landing grounds. They were whisked away in a black car that slithered through the ruins of the City. Effie watched the destruction through the windows, hot tears streaming down her cheeks. She startled when Annie squeezed her hand.

“You shouldn’t look.” the victor advised.

Effie couldn’t help it. She stared, mentally taking notes of how many of her favorite places were gone, how many of her friends were more than probably dead… Even the Presidential Mansion hadn’t been spared by the destruction. The lawn was free of corpses – which truly was a relief – but the mansion itself had taken some hits.

The soldier that took charge of them wasn’t from Thirteen but very obviously a rebel from a District. He spoke to Annie with warmth but looked down at Effie. She held her tongue all the way to Haymitch’s room but didn’t hesitate to inform him that his behavior was very rude once they had reached their destination. She shut the door in his face before he could threaten her – she was _certain_ he wasn’t above that – without bothering to knock.

Of course, she mused, staring at Haymitch who was frozen in place, caught red-handed, perhaps she should have – manners were important for more than one reason.

“I wouldn’t do that.” Effie warned him. “How many did you already have?”

Haymitch’s grey eyes trailed from her to the glass full to the rim in his hand. He slowly placed it down on the small table – polished cherry wood that gleamed in the sunlight spilling from the window, it was so beautiful, so _not-military_ she could have wept of joy.

“None yet.” he replied finally. “You have a _bloody_ sense of timing, sweetheart.”

She chuckled – a bit hysterically, she would have gladly admitted – and then they were kissing. She didn’t know who was the first to move, she didn’t know who reached for the other… She only knew kissing Haymitch was what she wanted to do for the rest of her life : he was safety, he was home and, more importantly, he was _alive_.  

“You cried.” he said between two kisses, brushing his thumb against her cheek. “I knew I should have left you in Thirteen…”

“No.” she was quick to protest. “It’s just the City…” She shook her head. “I am fine. _We_ are fine.” She forced a smile on her lips but she didn’t have to fake it for long because his hands felt around her stomach, probably trying to feel a kick. “He’s sleeping. He tortured me during _all_ the hovercraft ride. I am not sure Johanna isn’t right with her devil spawn nickname.”

“You sure?” he asked quietly, staring at the bump.

“Yes.” She brushed a hand against his hollowed cheek and pulled him into another kiss. _He_ didn’t look well at all. His skin felt parched and unhealthy. “How are the children?”

He sighed as if it was the most complicated question she could have asked him. “Katniss is badly burned, she’s still in intensive care but they think she will make it with skin grafts. There was an explosion, kids…”

“I know.” she cut him off because the story was obviously painful to him. “They were broadcasting when it happened.”

“Were they?” he snorted bitterly. There was more to it, she was sure, but whatever it was, he wouldn’t tell her that day. He reached for the glass but she grabbed his wrist before he could even touch it.

“Don’t.” she begged. “Please.”

A flash of irritation passed on his face but then his gaze fell on her stomach again and he closed his eyes. “Get rid of it then.”

She did it before he changed his mind. The suite they had been allotted was vast and luxuriously furnished, it was all very beautiful and she was sure the whiskey in the decanter was just as old and fine as anyone would like it. She wrinkled her nose when she watered it down the sink, the smell made her want to gag.

“It was a gift from Coin.” He was leaning against the bathroom doorframe. “She doesn’t need that to make sure I keep my mouth shut, of course. She has all the guarantees she needs right there.” He shrugged. “That’s why having a baby is a stupid idea.”

“I don’t understand.” she confessed. “What happened?” There was a perfectly acceptable couch in the suite living-room or an obviously comfortable bed in the bedroom but it was clear from Haymitch’s stance than he didn’t see why the bathroom wasn’t the most appropriate place to have a conversation. She closed the toilet lids and sat, relieved to get off her feet. Her ankles were swollen and she didn’t think she could convince him to massage them.

“You don’t go anywhere without me, Plutarch or Johanna.” he replied. “And you don’t go anywhere without telling me first.”

She almost regretted the times when he refused to tell her anything in fear she would get upset.

“Am I in danger?” she asked very directly. “Is the baby in danger?”

“Better safe than sorry.” He rubbed his face tiredly. She had troubles deciding if he was just being his usual paranoid self of it there was a real danger underneath it all. When he spoke again, his voice was lighter. “Peeta is better. I spoke with him twice, he didn’t try to kill me.”

“That’s wonderful news!” she beamed. “Is _he_ alright? Physically, I mean…”

“Mostly, yeah.” Haymitch nodded. “I told him about…” He waved haphazardly in the direction of her stomach. “He wants to see you if you’re up to it. I don’t think there is any danger for you now.”

“Our son does have a name, you know.” she huffed. “You should start using it, it would be good practice.”

“Devil’s spawn?” The ghost of a smirk played on his lips. It only deepened faced with her glaring but she decided to let it slide for now.

“I would be delighted to visit Peeta.” she smiled, pleased by the prospect. She had missed the boy. “Although, I think I’m overdue for a nap.”

“All that knitting must be exhausting.” he teased.

“Your restless child growing inside me is exhausting.” she replied, hauling herself back to her feet. “I am _never_ doing that again, by the way.”

“And I wanted another one so much…” He rolled his eyes but, still, he was very quick in shadowing her to the bedroom, she couldn’t help but notice.

“I want to go to my parents’ house too.” she informed him. “I need to see them. We drove close to the house on our way here, the area didn’t look too damaged. I do hope they’re alright…” His silence and his sudden fussing over the bed covers was telling. “Haymitch, did something happen to my parents?”

She couldn’t bear the thought. As if sensing her unease, the baby started moving, leaving her slightly queasy.

“I checked yesterday.” he finally told her. “Nobody has been in that house for months. Plutarch thinks they must have been arrested at some point.”

“Arrested?” she gasped. “That’s utterly ridiculous. Why would they? They never did anything wrong! They are fervent supporters of President Snow and…”

“Can you shout that a little louder, sweetheart?” he cringed. “We _really_ need a rebel leader to hear a former escort say that.”

She ignored him. “Why would my parents have been arrested?”

“Because they were related to a known rebel.” he snapped impatiently, gesturing at the bed. “Now get some rest, you’re not supposed to get all worked-up.”

“A known rebel?” she repeated before it _finally_ dawned on her. He meant _her_. _She_ was the known rebel. She was the traitor. “Are they alive?” Again, he remained silent. “Haymitch, _are they alive?_ ”

The pain shot through her without any warning and she grunted, clutching the bump.

“Lay down.” he ordered at once. He waited until she had done so to rush to the door, shouting at someone in the corridor to get a doctor. She tried to protest but he ignored her even though the pain didn’t come back. It took several minutes of pleading before he even accepted to reveal that he didn’t know where her family was or if they were still alive. He promised her he would find out and she trusted him enough to stop pestering him about it.

Getting hold of a doctor was difficult, the one that finally showed up was clearly a Capitol man and not very happy about the rebels occupation. He was harsh but thorough in his examination, he condemned her to bed rest for the day and warned her to seek medical help at once if the pain came back.

Fortunately, it didn’t.

Unfortunately, Haymitch wasn’t convinced and forced her to stay in bed for almost forty-eight hours. It wasn’t as bad as in Thirteen. For one, there was a TV and a collection of old movies, some of which she was particularly fond of. She made Haymitch watch three of them with her, more amused than she let on by his running commentary on the stupidity of the plots and the characters. He slept more than she did but she supposed he had earned his rest. He certainly looked like he needed it.

Her first stop once she was allowed off of that bed was Peeta’s hospital room. The boy _did_ look better and sounded more coherent than he had in months, he even apologized for the baking incident. Katniss, on the other hand, didn’t look good. They had her in a sort of weird incubator, the girl was so pumped with morphling that she didn’t seem aware of their presence even though she was looking right at them. Her flesh was raw in some places and melted in others, it didn’t made for a pretty sight and Effie’s stomach twisted more than once. She faked smiles for Mrs Everdeen’s sake though, she offered her help as it was proper to do in that kind of situation but the woman’s eyes, not unlike her daughter’s, almost looked through her.

She didn’t argue when Haymitch suggested she went back to bed after that last visit. Seeing Katniss like that, seeing _Mrs_ _Everdeen_ like that… She couldn’t imagine what the healer must have been feeling, the only thing she wanted to do was curl up on the bed in Haymitch’s arms and hold her baby bump until she had managed to convince herself that nothing bad would ever happen to her son. She had to believe it or she knew without a doubt that she would have gone mad.

The days stretched in a week, she settled in a new routine. In the mornings, she would visit Peeta and in the afternoons she would sit with Katniss. She had hoped things would be better once the rebellion was over but she quickly discovered it wasn’t to be. District rebels were hostile to the Capitol citizens, she knew it was only to be expected but it still created more tension than utterly necessary. Haymitch, particularly, was restless and was constantly on her heels, afraid someone would try something despite the fact that she was heavily pregnant – or maybe _because_ of it.

All in all, life after what they had started to call Victory Day was a lot like life in Thirteen. The only highlight was the clothes. Plutarch sent her several boxes full of maternity outfits that had her squealing in delight to Haymitch’s utter bafflement. She didn’t even listen to his sarcastic or nasty comments, too busy enumerating the names of all the colorful fabrics she could put her hands on for her son’s sake – you were _never_ too young for fashion. Her favorite was the silky bright pink dress with blue feathers on the shoulders. There was a matching wig but Haymitch sized it before it could touch her head.

“If I can’t drink, you’re not wearing those monstrosities anymore.” he said.

“Wigs don’t poison my liver.” she huffed.

“They will melt your brain.” he joked but then he gently tugged on the practical braid she often slept with. “No liquor, no wig. And no clownish make-up either.”

She rolled her eyes but gave up. It was a small concession to his sobriety and after all those months spent wearing grey, she was more interested in the bright colors than anything else anyway. She almost resolved to make Plutarch Helios’ godfather for that gift.

A week and a half after Snow had surrendered, things were starting to get a bit more organized. The doctor finally declared Katniss was out of danger even though it would be several more weeks before she was allowed out of the hospital. The girl was barely responsive, her voice was odd and even though she hid it, it pained Effie to look at her puffed reddish skin. She was knitting next to her bed – Katniss’ mother spent more time helping out in the various hospitals in the City than she did with her daughter nowadays – when Haymitch showed up with a grim face.

“I found your family.” was all he said.

The rest would remain a blur for years to come. He insisted she waited for them to be brought to the Mansion but she couldn’t be convinced to wait and she got so worked up that, in the end, he relented and commissioned a car. She barely registered his explanations about them having been locked up in a detaining facility for months, she didn’t listen to his subtle but awkward warnings that maybe they wouldn’t be as delighted to see her as she was.

She should have listened.

The detaining facility was a non-descript building. She had walked passed it a thousand times, never knowing it was hiding a prison. The room in which the newly freed prisoners had been taken was huge. There were medics running around, a makeshift infirmary had been settled in a corner of what must have been the dining hall… She felt most of the prisoners staring at her as she waited for Haymitch to finish speaking with a rebel soldier. They were all wearing grey as if they were a twisted parody of District Thirteen’s citizens, they all sported hollow gazes that made her shiver despite the tawny fur coat Plutarch had gifted her with, they all looked as if they had just come back from hell. With her expensive clothes and her full belly, she stuck out like a sore thumb. Her cheeks flushed with shame.

“They’re over there.” Haymitch was back next to her, still stern-looking. His grey eyes kept roaming left and right as if he was expecting something to happen. “Are you alright?”

It was a recurrent question between them now. The room didn’t have any window and she was feeling oppressed. There were a lot of people, it was hot, flies were buzzing around, congregating on the ceiling… She unbuttoned her coat and nodded, faking a reassuring smile. He wasn’t convinced, he knew her too well, but he still lead her to a corner of the room, one hand on her arm, the other at the small of her back.

She scrutinized every face around them, searching for someone familiar. When she found them, her heart leaped with joy.

“Father!” she exclaimed because he was the first one she saw. She escaped Haymitch’s hands and threw her arms around her father’s neck, feeling like a little girl again.

It took her a few seconds to realize he wasn’t embracing her back.

She let him go, her bright smile faltering a little only to strengthen again when she glimpsed the shock on his face. “Father, it’s me.”

His fingers brushed her cheek tentatively.

“Euphemia…” he whispered and at that simple sound she started to cry. She didn’t know why, she blamed the pregnancy that made her emotional at odd times, but her name in her father’s mouth sent uncontrollable tears rolling down her face. She hadn’t realized how much she had been scared of never hearing it again until that moment.

“Father.” she breathed out again, looking over his shoulder for the missing members of their family. “Where is Mother? Lyssa?”

At the mention of her mother and her sister, her father’s face closed up. “You shouldn’t have come, Euphemia. It’s too soon to make amends.”

“Amends?” she repeated. She glanced at Haymitch, not understanding what he was talking about but her victor simply shrugged. Meanwhile, her father had _finally_ noticed her pregnant stomach and was glaring at Haymitch. One thing at a time, she thought. “We’re expecting a boy, Father. We…”

“Oh, you must be kidding me!” The voice was familiar enough that Effie fell silent and turned in its direction but the bitterness and hatred in it were unbelievable. Her sister looked wild : her dark hair was tangled and unkempt, her blue eyes were bloodshot with bags underneath, her grey clothes were floating on her narrow frame… Effie’s first impulse was to open her arms yet she stepped back just as Haymitch stepped closer – so close she was almost pressed against him – her sister was radiating anger.

Lyssa had always been such a gentle soul, Effie was taken aback.

“Lyssandra, nothing excuses rudeness.” Her mother was as poised as ever, even deprived of wig or make-up, she looked regal. “Euphemia.” Her eyes fell to her stomach and her face morphed into displeasure that only increased when she spied the flower ring on Effie’s finger. “And there I kept telling them some mistake must have been made and you weren’t a traitor…”

“Mother…” Effie tried, her eyes darting to her father in hope he would give her some clue on how to act.

“What are you doing here?” Lyssa sneered, her soft features distorting in disgust. “I always knew you were jealous of me but that’s a bit over the top, don’t you think? Flaunting your bastard in front of my face when you killed _my_ _children_.”

“I don’t… What? I…” She was too confused and Lyssa was obviously out of her mind. She looked at Haymitch, feeling helpless. He was frowning but he didn’t seem to know more than she did.

“The children were at the Presidential Mansion.” her father supplied.

It was like a punch to the guts. It literally knocked the breath out of her.

Given that their father had occupied a high position in the government, she had assumed the children were somewhere safe. It hadn’t even occurred to her that they could have still been in the City itself never mind… _dead_.

She saw Lyssa advancing on her, she registered the threat but she was too numb to do anything. She was glad for Haymitch. He swiftly stepped in front of her, effectively shielding her.

“Don’t you _dare_ touch my daughter!” her mother thundered. “Keep that for the one you soiled.”

Haymitch’s answer was lost to her, as was the resulting screaming match. She felt as if the walls were closing in on her. It was her father who stopped her from falling and it was her father who told Haymitch to get her out of that place. She let Haymitch stir her away to the infirmary, she let him shout himself hoarse until he got a doctor to look at her, she let them decide together that she was shocked. She leaned against him all the way to the car. It was only then that she burst into tears, she buried her face in his neck and she sobbed until she felt sick.

He didn’t say he was sorry or that it would get better, he simply hold her all the way back to the Mansion.

“Children always die.” she whispered to him later that night. And mothers were left… How odd was it that there was no word for a woman who lost her child? It was so against nature that civilization didn’t even have a word for it. She had never looked at it that way before but how could she ignore it further when there was one growing in her belly?

“Not ours.” he vowed, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.

She wanted to call him a liar but then she thought about Katniss and Peeta who seemed to survive against all odds. She hoped their son would take after them.

Her sorrow never truly disappeared but she forced herself to go through the motions, she forced herself to push the sadness away, knowing it wasn’t good for the baby. She busied herself with helping Haymitch taking care of Katniss as much as she could.

The girl, once released from the hospital, went back to her hiding in small spaces and falling asleep in weird places. She hummed to herself a lot.

“She’s insane.” Haymitch told her one night.

“Don’t say that.” she chided him.

“Like you don’t think the same, sweetheart.” he grumbled.

She did, that was the worst thing. It had been weeks since Snow’s surrender, weeks since Katniss had been released from the hospital and her mother was leaving her on her own more and more. Haymitch was the one taking care of the teenager which meant _Effie_ was sharing the burden – and it _was_ a burden by that point however much she loved the girl. Besides that, Coin’s thirst for blood was increasing with each passing day. Effie had been careful to not watch the televised public trials that had sentenced each of her former colleagues to be executed. She was the last escort standing and she would still have been put in front of a judge and a jury despite everything if it hadn’t been for her condition – even _Plutarch_ had to answer for his time as a Gamemaker. As it was, evidence of her links to the rebels had been provided and Haymitch had spent fifteen minutes straight in Coin’s office. After that, charges had been dropped but Effie had started to make inquiries about her flat. She knew they wouldn’t go anywhere while Katniss still needed them but she was hoping once Snow’s execution was done and over with, they would let them go back to her flat – where she could sort something out as a nursery – and bring the girl with them perhaps.

“I am so tired.” she whined. She felt as if she had been pregnant forever rather than thirty-four weeks. She was about to enter the ninth month and the baby kept pressing against her bladder, her ankles were swollen, her back hurt, her breasts were so heavy she was forced to keep a bra on at night… “I hate being pregnant.”

“Getting you pregnant was fun.” he sighed wistfully. “I miss the fun.”

They hadn’t had sex in weeks but her body was in so much discomfort _she_ didn’t ‘miss the fun’.

“I hate _you_ for putting me through that.” she hissed, elbowing him in the side. She made the most of his grunt of pain and pulled the covers to her. He was a blankets-holder anyway. She was quick to caress her stomach in case the baby took it the wrong way. “Not you, baby. Mommy loves you very, very much.”

It was dark and she couldn’t see Haymitch’s face but she was certain he was smirking. He still thought talking to her belly was stupid – even though he had done it himself on occasion. “Maybe _you_ ’re insane.”

“And Daddy will never _ever_ have fun with Mommy again.” she cooed to the baby bump.

Haymitch’s low chuckles made her smile despite her annoyance. “Now you sound like a pervert, sweetheart.”

She hissed when the baby hit her bladder and forced her to waddle out of bed _again_ to use the toilet. “Six more weeks.” she mumbled to herself. “I can’t wait for this to be over.”

She should have bitten her tongue, she mused two weeks later.

Prepping Katniss for Snow’s execution was a nightmare for several reasons, the main one being that being thirty-six weeks pregnant _was_ a nightmare in itself. She couldn’t remain on her feet more than ten minutes without feeling so tired she was ready to collapse on the nearest flat surface. She looked like a whale, she _felt_ like a whale and she was so irritated she kept snapping at everyone.

She and Haymitch had three arguments before nine in the morning, Katniss was uncooperative and an unplanned meeting between Coin and the victors threatened to put everything off schedule. She waited with Plutarch – who, to his great dismay, hadn’t been invited to attend – wasting time in true Capitol fashion : they criticized everybody they were annoyed with.

When the victors and the President stepped out of the meeting room, only Enobaria and Coin were smiling. The rest of them were all grim-faced. Haymitch lost no time in grabbing her arm.

“Say you’re tired and go back to our room.” he hissed in her ear.

“What do you…” she frowned.

He squeezed her arm. “Trust me.”

She _did_ trust him to have the baby’s best interest at heart so she did as he ordered her. She reached the suite just in time to watch the beginning of the execution live on TV. Coin’s speech didn’t interest her, she observed Haymitch’s closed face in the background, the way he was holding himself… He was ready for a fight. Something was going to happen…

The baby was particularly agitated but she ignored it, focused on what was happening on the screen. She rubbed her stomach absent-mindedly while Katniss notched her arrow.

Time seemed to freeze when Coin fell instead of Snow.

And then it was chaos.

She saw Katniss fall to the ground, she saw Hawthorne and Peeta both move her way, she saw Haymitch wrestling a soldier’s gun out of his hands before he could shoot the Mockingjay. That was when the screen went black.

She jumped to her feet, her heart hammering in her chest, intending to run out there and _do_ something – or, more likely, to find someone who would get Haymitch and the children back for her.  

She wasn’t expecting the pain.

She wasn’t expecting the water that splashed down either.

The contraction made her grunt. She tried to sit down on the bed but she miscalculated and she ended up on the floor. She took a minute to catch her breath, forcing herself not to panic. Doctor Haltman had warned her that panicking if something like that ever happened would only make it worse – granted, the doctor was still in Thirteen and _that_ was a frightening thought. It was too early for her to give birth, there were still four weeks to go… They had been warned she would probably go into labor before term but they had been expecting a few weeks still not…

She tried to reach the door but she failed. Fear was making her dizzy, the contractions were violent and she _abhorred_ pain, she couldn’t stand it – childbirth had never been something she had seriously contemplated before Thirteen – she rolled on her back and she stayed there, hoping someone would come. Someone _had_ to come at some point.

“ _Fuck_.” she growled. If there ever was a time for swearing, she thought that was it.

She breathed through the pain and she counted the time between contractions. The pain only grew worse, she wasn’t sure she didn’t faint because her sight kept flashing to black. She must have been lying there for more than an hour when Haymitch staggered in, a bleeding gush on his right eyebrow.

He froze and then he dropped to his knees next to her. “ _Fuck_!”

She vowed to never let her son know that his parents’ reaction to his birth had been less than joyful.

Haymitch was very efficient when he wanted to be. She was whisked away to the hospital before the next contraction even hit. She wanted to ask about their victors but she couldn’t find the right words. All she could do was cling to Haymitch’s hand and pant each time the pain came back. It felt as if her body was being torn apart.

“I want Doctor Haltman…” she begged.

“She’s on her way.” Haymitch promised, brushing her hair out of her face. She was sweating so much it stuck to her skin. “Plutarch phoned Thirteen, she’s on a hovercraft. She will be there.”

“I don’t think so.” the doctor that was examining her piped in. “It’s too late for an epidural. We will have to do this the old way…”

Effie _hated_ this. She was exposed for everyone to see, sympathetic nurses and the young doctor were all providing encouragements she didn’t care about. _The pain_ … The pain was too much. She wasn’t made to bear so much pain. She wasn’t proud of the tears that rolled down her cheeks, she wasn’t proud of the way she clawed at Haymitch’s hand and squirmed on that delivery table, trying to find some relief…

“I can’t…” she sobbed. “I can’t do this… Haymitch, take me home… Take me home…”

Haymitch was white as a sheet. His hand was shaking even more than hers, he looked ready to faint or throw up or both at once. For a second, she thought he would do just that or simply leave her there and go in search of liquor but he focused instead. She could almost see his mind working like it did each time he encountered a puzzle worth his attention.

“Sure, you can, sweetheart.” he smirked. “See, the devil’s spawn is just as annoying as you already. He’s probably afraid of being late. That’s your fault, you’re too obsessed with schedules…”

“Haymitch…” she whimpered as another wave of pain rolled on her.

Someone told her to start pushing. That, at least, felt natural so that was what she did. She pushed and pushed but it had no end.

“Again, Princess.” Haymitch told her.

His voice felt distant, distorted like an echo.

“I’m tired… I’m so tired…” She was even too tired to cry.

“I know.” he promised. “It’s almost over. Push.”

The doctor was talking, one of the nurse was telling her something but she couldn’t hear. She could see her face, all blond curls and blue eyes… She looked like Primrose. For a second, she wondered if she was an angel.

The crying took her by surprise because it was ear-piercingly loud and it wasn’t coming from her. Haymitch’s grey eyes were riveted on someone that wasn’t her either, his mouth was slightly open either in shock or… She didn’t know. Until she did, suddenly, it came to her. She didn’t feel the same urge to push because there was nothing left to deliver.

“Is he beautiful?” she asked Haymitch.

Haymitch’s gaze went back to her with a genuine smile. “Like his mom.”

“Good.” she breathed out. She was cold, very cold. It came from within. She could feel herself slipping away. There was a clarity right before death, they said, perhaps that was it. “Take good care of him.”

The last thing she registered was the despaired look on Haymitch’s face.

The ghost of her name on his lips.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading and commenting on that story. I hope you liked it and I would love it if you could tell me what you thought of that last part =)

Effie’s hand grew slack in his, her eyes closed and a lot of machines started beeping.

He was violently pushed aside as more doctors and nurses rushed in, no one bothering to stop and explain what was happening. The baby was gone too, nowhere to be seen, and the world started closing around him, the edge of his vision going black. He wondered if they had a bar in the hospital. He wondered if someone would care if he simply grabbed a syringe of morphling and pushed the content in his veins. He was losing them. He had already lost them.

The doctor said something about bleeding that wouldn’t stop and the word “surgery” was shouted by another, then they put Effie on a gurney and they rolled her away. He wanted to stop them. He wanted to protect her. He couldn’t move. He was helpless. He was _useless_.

He had failed his family. Again.

“Sir. Sir.” He shrugged the hand on his arm away defensively, ready to strike the intruder. The nurse flinched but, to her credit, she still kept her forced smile firmly in place. She had brown hair trimmed with red strands and brown eyes, there was a purple tattoo of a flower on her neck. “Your wife needs surgery, Doctor Falarus will talk to you as soon as he knows more.” He stared at her, not understanding a word of what she was saying. She looked kind and sympathetic when she placed her hand on his arm again. “I assure you our staff will do their best. Now… Would you like to meet your son?”

 _His_ _son_.

“Is he dead?” How morbid was it that the first question popping in his head was that one? He had heard him cry but then they had taken him away before he could even get a proper look.

“No! No, no, no.” the nurse was quick to reassure him. “Come with me.” He let her guide him through a few corridors until they arrived in a room with big rectangular boxes and a lot of machinery. He had to wash his hands twice before going in. There were two couples sitting next to two different boxes, he realized there were babies inside. The nurse brought him to another one, identical, except that baby was alone and he knew at first glance that he was _his_. There was a pull in his guts. “He was a bit early and he’s a bit smaller than he should be.” the woman explained. “But I think we have a little fighter. He’s breathing fine on his own and the brain waves are normal which is the important thing. If we’re lucky, he won’t have to stay in the incubator for too long.”

Haymitch couldn’t stop staring at the tiny arms and tiny legs, the even tinier fingers and the blue – or were they grey? – eyes he could glimpse through the half-open eyelids. There were some tubes and band-aids on his arms.

“I know it looks very scary but I promise the tubes are only there to help.” the nurse explained, bringing a chair next to the incubator. Haymitch was only too happy to sink on it, never taking his eyes off the baby. “We will take them out in a few days, maybe even tomorrow. It’s all preventive. Now, look, this is very, very scary for your son too so you need to let him know you’re here. Talk to him, he will recognize your voice. You can’t hold him yet but do you see the holes on the side of the box…” She grabbed his wrist and brought his hand to one of the round holes – there were six of them. “You can touch him. It’s very important that you do.”

She explained something about contact deprivation in premature babies and how it could lead to depression but he didn’t completely listen. His hand was inside the incubator and yet he couldn’t quite bring himself to touch the baby.

“I’m going to hurt him.” He was _so_ small and Haymitch _always_ ended up hurting everyone around him.

“No, you won’t.” the nurse smiled, giving up on her speech. “He needs it as much as you do.”

He brushed a finger against a tiny nail tentatively and the baby answered by moving his arm. Encouraged, Haymitch traced the small hand, counting the fingers because that was the stupid thing every new father did. The eyes were open now and they looked more grey than blue, he was a bit disappointed by that. He loved Effie’s eyes.

“See? Now he knows Daddy didn’t just leave him.” the nursed cooed at the incubator before flashing a quick smile at Haymitch. “I need a name for the file.”

“Helios.” he answer mechanically. “Helios Abernathy. About Effie… Can you…”

“I will come to tell you as soon as I know more.” she promised but the smile was strained that time.

She left him alone with the baby in a box he was still terrified to hurt.

“Hey, devil’s spawn.” he whispered. The other couples were talking to their babies too, in hushed voices, so he supposed it was the thing to do. His son looked so vulnerable, so… _fragile_. The surge of protectiveness came out of nowhere but washed over him like a tidal wave. _Nobody_ would _ever_ hurt that child. _Ever_.

The baby opened and closed his mouth slowly, squirming a little when Haymitch’s finger wandered to his chest. Perhaps he was ticklish. Effie was very ticklish so he must have taken that after her… The thought of Effie made his heart clench in fear. He couldn’t even imagine what their son must be feeling, so small, torn from her womb to be placed in a plastic box…

“You must be wondering where Mommy is…” The baby’s skin was all soft and strangely warm, he could get used to that. “She’s coming soon. Now, I have to warn you her voice is _very_ annoying and she’s probably going to make a lot of stupid noises she thinks babies like…” He placed his finger against the baby palm and the tiny fingers closed on it. It was a reflex probably but it helped Haymitch relax. “Neither of you are going anywhere. You and I, we have a deal, remember? You hang on. And Mommy… I will kick your mommy’s ass if she tries to die on us.” He paused for a second and then winced. “Of course, she will kick _my_ ass if she learns I said that in front of you.” He closed his eyes for a second and leaned his forehead against the side of the box. “What I wouldn’t give for a glass of whiskey… You’re too young for whiskey, that’s a shame. I bet you would like it better than milk. I hate milk.”

He rambled on and on, letting his mouth run freely only to fill up the silence. At some point, the baby fell asleep but Haymitch kept his hand in the incubator and he kept talking. He was too afraid of doing it wrong and the nurse had said his son should know he was right there.

“Haymitch.” the low whisper put an end to his speech about the merits of vodka over Ripper’s best batch – which, admittedly, was probably for the best. He was too tired to do much more than glance at Plutarch.

“Effie?” was his first question.

“Still in surgery from what I understand.” the Gamemaker said, taking another chair to sit next to him. “I sent Haltman in there. I’m sure everything will be fine.” It was a flat lie but Haymitch let it slide. “Congratulation.”

Plutarch moved as if he wanted to reach inside the incubator to touch the baby.

“Don’t.” Haymitch growled, tensed all of a sudden.

His friend seemed taken aback but then sat back on his chair, his two hands raised in front of him. “Alright.”

Neither of them commented the incident further. Haymitch petted the baby’s chest carefully while Plutarch told him what was happening outside those walls. The vacuum of power left by Coin wasn’t good but it was always better than the tyrant she was becoming, they were going to organize elections – that would take a few weeks, according to the Gamemaker but they couldn’t do much more. As for Katniss…

“She tried to kill herself.” Plutarch told him.

“Can I catch a breath?” was Haymitch’s tired answer.

“I made sure there was nothing left in her room with which she can hurt herself.” the Gamemaker said. “We need to get her off morphling. There’s going to be a trial eventually but I don’t see that happening before proper elections so we have time.”

“Not cold turkey.” Haymitch decided, remembering his own withdrawal in Thirteen. “Ease her into it. It will buy us time to prepare a defense or… Whatever.”

He was so exhausted…

“You should get some sleep.” Plutarch said, as if he was reading his mind. “I could…”

Haltman’s stern outline outside of the room made him jump to his feet, suddenly wide awake. “Stay with the kid.” he ordered his friend before throwing a warning glare. “But _don’t_ touch.” He hurried out and almost stumbled into the doctor. “Is she alive?”

The woman seemed surprised by his sudden appearance but recovered quickly enough. “Yes. She lost a lot of blood but that was to be expected given the difficulties during the pregnancy and her general…” His eyes must have glassed over because she simply concluded with a : “She will be fine in time. I wanted to examine the child.”

He moved aside to let her enter the room. Once she was gone, he slid against the wall all the way to the floor and buried his face into his hands, wishing Finnick was there once more to offer comfort. He gave himself five minutes of complete panicking then he stood up and walked back in time to watch Haltman finish her examination. She declared herself satisfied with the baby’s health and concurred that he wouldn’t need the incubator for long.

The problem came once she was gone.

Haymitch was torn between his instinct to keep the baby close at all cost and his need to check on Effie.

“I will stay here.” Plutarch offered, obviously picking up on his dilemma. “And I won’t touch.” The last part was added with unashamed amusement.

“You need to talk to him.” Haymitch grumbled. “But don’t say stupid things.”

“Like explaining the difference between whiskey and scotch?” the Gamemaker laughed.

Haymitch chose to ignore that.

They wouldn’t let him sit with Effie – a frowning nurse muttered something about rebel scum and visiting hours – Haymitch threatened to have the whole staff arrested if they tried to stop him. It was mean but effective. He waited for hours, dozing in his chair. At some point, he couldn’t stand the waiting anymore and he walked back to his son. Plutarch was asleep next to the incubator but, at least, Helios wasn’t alone.

“Mommy is fine.” Haymitch told the baby who waved his little feet in response. His son was a masterpiece. He was beautiful. And perfect. And he was utterly terrifying his father. “She will come soon.”

That was a false promise as he found out soon enough. When Effie finally woke up, she was so dosed up with various drugs, she was completely out of it. They moved her out of intensive care and to a private room before she was even completely lucid. Johanna, Annie and Peeta showed up at some point – Haymitch had lost all sense of time, he didn’t know how many hours or days had passed since the labor had started – with fresh clothes and a toilet bag for him for which he was glad. Plutarch, who had stayed in the hospital with him switching place from Effie’s side to the boy’s when Haymitch wanted to go see the other member of his family, was at last able to go back to the Presidential Mansion to get some sleep. Annie and Peeta’s visit was short but Johanna took Plutarch’s place with a lot of grumbling. Haymitch was sure she didn’t obey his rule not to touch as soon as his back was turned but there was nothing he could do about it.

Johanna amused herself by repeating to the baby all the curses she knew, glaring back at the other couples present in the big room. She preferred sitting at Effie’s side, she had a lot of fun with the former escort’s drugged ramblings.

He was busy learning from the nurse how to change his son’s nappy inside the incubator – or, as the nurse joked good naturally, _at all_ – when Johanna showed up.

“The bitch is awake and raging.” she told him. “Better get your ass over there before she kills someone.”

He ran to Effie’s room, ignoring the warnings and rebukes from passing members of staff about no running in the hospital. She was indeed _raging_ at a squirming young nurse who looked ready to burst into tears – Effie always had a sharp tongue and she always knew how to use it.

“Haymitch!” she exclaimed as soon as she saw him. She was trying to sit up in the bed and the nurse was attempting to get her to remain lying down. “Haymitch, where is my baby? They stole my baby! They stole my baby!” She wrapped her hands around his wrist when he pushed on her shoulder gently so she wouldn’t hurt herself. “Haymitch, my baby…”

“He’s alright.” he promised. “They had to put him in one of those boxes…”

Wrong thing to say.

“My baby!” she screamed, thrashing against his hands. She was sobbing now, her eyes all wide and terrified. “They stole him! They stole…”

“Shut up!” he snapped. He regretted it at once but he hadn’t slept in… he didn’t know how long. And, at least, it was effective. She closed her mouth, probably appalled by the way he was talking to her. “Nobody stole the baby. He’s perfectly fine only two corridors away.”

She looked at him with so much despair it broke his heart. “I can’t feel him anymore.”

“That’s because you gave birth.” he frowned. “Remember that? ‘Cause I can promise you it will feature in my nightmares.” All the blood and her screaming…

Her eyes roamed his face, obviously trying to figure it out. The drug must have still been clouding her brain. “I’m all empty.”

“Yeah.” he nodded. “Free at last.”

His joke fell flat. More tears rolled down her cheeks, he brushed them away with his thumb.

“I want my baby.” she begged. “ _Please._ ”

“You can’t stand up yet.” the nurse cut in. “The wheelchair wouldn’t be a good idea either for now. Maybe tomorrow.”

Effie argued some more but then she stopped responding. Haymitch didn’t dare leave her side. She moped for hours, so obviously distressed it made him yearn for a drink to simply look at her. She calmed down slightly when he nudged her to the side of the bed to wrap his arms around her but even that didn’t improve her mood. He told her about the baby, how he would close his tiny hand around his finger when he touched his palm, how he blinked and looked straight at him when he was talking about her, how beautiful he was… That didn’t help. She only buried her face in his shoulder and started to cry, pleading with him to bring her the baby.

After a few hours, the drugs finally left her system and she seemed to get more rational. He managed to get about thirty minutes of sleep but once the doctor showed up for the morning visit, she was adamant about wanting to see her son.

Haymitch rolled her there on the wheelchair himself, impatient and more excited about that meeting than he cared to admit. Johanna greeted them with a sneer, unhappy at having been left to babysit for so long. He ignored her, watching Effie’s face when she first laid eyes on their son. Relief and love washed away the despair and a small smile tugged at her lips.

“Hello, sweetie.” she whispered when she touched him for the first time. She placed her finger just like Haymitch had told her and she almost started to cry when he wrapped his tiny fingers around it.

“Do you want to hold him?” Haymitch’s favorite nurse – the purple tattooed one – asked her. She glanced up at Haymitch. “I was going to surprise you with that today but… I think Mommy needs it more than Daddy, right?”

He nodded his consent, only too happy to watch as the baby was carefully extracted from the incubator and placed in Effie’s arms. She made it look very natural as she gathered the baby against her chest. Haymitch crouched next to the wheelchair, staring at the small miracle in her arms while the nurse ushered Johanna away – there was a reason she was his favorite.

“He’s perfect.” Effie breathed out.

“Told you.” He didn’t bother to hide the pride in his voice.

“Mommy loves you so, so very much.” she cooed to Helios. Their son seemed happier than he had ever seen him. Obviously he had needed his mother just as much as she had needed him. She talked and talked to the baby, promising a thousand times to never leave him again. He was content to watch them, sitting on the floor next to the wheelchair, his chin propped on the armrest. She noticed his staring and huffed. “What? If you want to make fun of me, I warn you I don’t care in the slightest.”

 _I love you_.

The words wouldn’t come out of his mouth and yet that was all he could think about. He loved her. He loved _them_.

“Nothing.” he mumbled but she wasn’t completely fooled, he could tell.

She flashed him a beaming smile and leaned toward him. He met her halfway. The kiss was probably longer than it should have been given where they were but he couldn’t care less.

“You need to shave.” she cringed. “And take a shower.”

He patted his son’s tiny hand to get the baby’s attention. “See? That’s what I meant when I said she was annoying.”

Helios remained in the incubator for two more days before he was finally allowed his own see-through crib in Effie’s room – not that he spent much time in it, Effie was generally carrying him or letting him sleep on her chest all day long. When Plutarch swung by with a bag full of new baby clothes, she welcomed him like he was a hero which vexed Haymitch greatly since he had been the one going on practically no sleep at all to make sure their family was safe. He shouldn’t have expected her to be grateful.

“I need you to get out of this hospital.” Effie told him one day, out of the blue, while she was feeding Helios. Breastfeeding, as everything with them, was more complicated than it should have been. Her body, Haltman had explained, hadn’t actually been completely equipped to deal with a child to begin with, the fertility treatment had helped only that much. She didn’t have enough milk to feed him as often as he required and even those times were painful to her. Helios didn’t always accept her breast either which made her feel lacking as a mother no matter how many times Haymitch repeated she was doing great. If they sometimes had to feed him from a bottle, then so be it, he didn’t see where the big deal was.

“It’s good to feel loved.” he grumbled, sorting through the pile of clothes Plutarch had brought. He absolutely refused to dress his son in sparkling glittering puffy things, fashion or not. The minuscule wigs were put aside too.

“They will let us out soon.” she continued, without missing a beat. “We need a place to live and I absolutely _refuse_ to go back to the Presidential Mansion. Now, I ordered some furniture while you were sleeping yesterday, they should be delivered in two or three days. You need to make sure my flat is clean and ready for a newborn and you will also need to organize the nursery. Believe me, I would love to do that myself but my hands are rather full at the moment.” She nodded to the child to explain her point. “You should see about getting some toys too. _Do_ try to make it nice.”

His recurrent refusals to leave the hospital without them fell into deaf ears – she almost kicked him out physically. It was only when he had actually put a foot out of the building that he realized he had been living there for more than a week.

The outside world felt different – perhaps _he_ was different. The only thing on his mind on his way to the Training Center, where Katniss was being held, was his son and yet he noticed the changes. There were posters everywhere about upcoming elections and several rebel leaders’ pictures looked back at him when he passed them by – Paylor was his and Plutarch’s choice, they had already planned on public support. Shops were open again, people were wandering the streets, Capitols and Districts alike, rebuilding was underway…

He couldn’t see Katniss, she wasn’t allowed visitors but he felt guilty for not having checked up on her before. His heart broke a little in his chest when he saw the footage of her naked figure, with her torn skin, singing to herself in the corner of her room. He had failed her again.

The Presidential Mansion was in an uproar and he was ushered in a reunion even before he could go take a shower and change clothes. It was late when he finally managed to escape to Effie’s flat. The good point was that the building was still standing and was safe, the bad point was that some of the windows had been blown out and the place had been ransacked at some point. Haymitch made an attempt but he didn’t know how to clean, never mind how to organize a nursery.

He didn’t dare tell Effie when he finally came back to the hospital, relieved to simply be back in her and their son’s presence. It seemed strangely simple with them, easier than he had ever thought it could be. The baby needed nothing more from him being there and Effie was content to handle most of the conversation.

Plutarch’s secretary found him someone to repair the windows as well as a cleaning agency that did a better job at making the flat livable than he could ever have. The next problem he had to face, of course, was the actual nursery. Effie’s flat was a two-bedrooms apartment, the logical choice was to get rid of the guestroom’s furniture and replace it with the newly delivered baby furniture : problem number one was that the baby furniture came in pieces and problem number two was Effie had specifically told him to have the nursery painted with child-friendly color – whatever _that_ was.

Haymitch was out of his depth.

Good thing he had friends and that he wasn’t shy about abusing those friendships.

Annie and Plutarch were sent on a toys and decoration shopping trip because Haymitch would have probably ended up in a bar in sheer despair if he had gone by himself, Peeta – who was undergoing heavy therapy but was allowed out under supervision – was put in charge of the painting and Johanna, who spent most of the day asking _why_ she was there, helped Haymitch with the furniture.

“Seriously, does a baby need so much shit or is it Effie being Effie?” he asked, throwing two little plastic pieces on the floor in frustration. _Easy to built!_ , the crib box claimed. Haymitch had some complains about that. And it was only _the_ _crib_. There was a baby changing table, a baby high chair, baby thingies for the bathroom, baby thingies for every _damned_ room of that flat.

“Your lack of knowledge about babies is frightening given that the devil’s spawn is already born.” Johanna cackled in her corner of the nursery where she was attempting to build a dresser – _attempting_ was the keyword, she wasn’t faring better than Haymitch was.

“’Cause you know more than me, right?” he snapped.

“I know babies make a lot of noise and demand a lot of attention.” she shrugged. “I don’t want one. What about you, lover boy?”

Peeta paused, paintbrush midair. Haymitch really hoped the boy wouldn’t have one of his episodes because he needed that nursery painted for yesterday and instead of using a single color like Haymitch had planned, the boy had gone and plotted with Effie before bullying Haymitch into buying five different paint pots. The walls were now a nice light purple covered with suns, stars, flowers and various animals.

“I know Effie will strangle both of you if that nursery isn’t perfect.” Peeta answered finally.

The boy had a point so they went back to work, Johanna regularly muttering that if they just let her go and grab her axe she could even out the pieces and finish quicker. It took two days before they were done and that was when Plutarch and Annie appeared with their shopping and Haymitch realized he should have kept an eye on that.

“Don’t you think you went a bit overboard?” he asked.

Johanna was in hysterics on the couch, laughing so hard she was clutching her side. He couldn’t quite blame her. There was a sea of shopping bags in the living-room, not only toys but more clothes and – that put an end to Johanna’s mocking hilarity – more things to built.

The flat didn’t even look like the same place anymore.

“So you’re really going to stay here?” Johanna asked, once they were left alone to ponder how in hell they were supposed to clip the playpen colorful plastic pieces together. He was certain the baby was too young to use a playpen anyway…

“No, I’m baby proofing a random flat ‘cause it’s so much fun, sweetheart.” he grumbled, studying the box with the musical mobile that should have, in theory, gone on the crib. “You have more stupid questions?”

“I meant in the Capitol, dumbass.” she replied.

He looked up, confused. “We can’t go anywhere for now. We need to take care of the elections and then Katniss’ trials, not to mention the boy still needs psychological help.”

“That’s a matter of weeks, months maybe.” she shrugged, sitting back on her heels. There was something surreal in sitting on a nursery floor with Johanna Mason, he thought. “I plan on getting the hell out of this _fucking_ City as soon as I can and never come back again. I think I will go to Four with Annie. Someone needs to keep an eye on her now.”

“Yeah.” he agreed. He had been planning on checking on her himself. Finnick would have done the same for him. “She’s doing better than I thought she would.”

Johanna hummed but didn’t answer. She was privy to Annie’s confidences, he wasn’t.

“So what are _you_ going to do when it’s over?” she insisted. “’Cause Haymitch Abernathy living in the Capitol? I don’t see it. And Trinket in Twelve? That’s never going to happen.”

He had never, once, asked himself that question. He had been so busy worrying over something happening to Effie or the kids, he had never even stopped to think and plan life after the rebellion.

“Not sure I have a choice…” he replied finally. “I’m still responsible for Katniss and Peeta.”

And neither of them were getting out of the Capitol anytime soon. As for Twelve… He wasn’t sure he wanted to go back to Twelve at all. Everything was destroyed there, there was nothing for him in that District but painful memories. Four was an option, he thought, and one he could probably get Effie to rally behind. They could find a house not far from Annie’s… He had seen the sea during his Victory Tour and he had liked it, it would be nice for his son to grow up there…

He never found the right time to talk about it with Effie. Everything was moving too quickly. They finished to ready the flat in time for her release from the hospital but it was a close call.

“You better like it.” he warned, watching her taking in the changes in her flat, Helios strapped to her chest in his baby sling.

“I love it.” she promised, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “I’m actually impressed.”

He chased her mouth, careful of the baby between them, but starving for her touch. “How impressed?” he smirked.

She wrapped her arms around his neck with a knowing grin. “I can’t do that yet.”

“I hate pregnancies.” he sighed. “Let’s never do it again.” That was the moment the baby started to wail like he was possessed and she immediately let go of Haymitch to coo and whisper at the child, completely oblivious of him. He could have disappeared in a puff of smoke and she wouldn’t even have noticed. “I think I need to have a man to man talk with him. I was here first.”

She shot him a grin over her shoulder. “I’m his before I’m yours, that’s the rule now.”

“I hate rules.” Haymitch huffed.

It was startlingly easy to fall in a domestic life. After having shared a room for so long in Thirteen, sharing an actual flat – with a lot more of _space_ – was nothing he wasn’t used to, the baby took up a lot of space both figuratively and physically but they were both so wrapped around his tiny finger they hardly noticed it. They still argued a lot because Haymitch was a slob and Effie was, in his opinion, a neat freak but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. He worked with Plutarch whenever he could, checked up on Katniss, made sure Peeta was still working things through and, to Johanna’s utter amusement, became a mother hen. Effie was constantly on his back because he was rude to their – recurrent – visitors.

He didn’t understand why everyone insisted on picking the baby up. He hated it when Plutarch, Peeta, Annie or Johanna held him – all the more so given that Seven’s victor was doing it only to spite him, she had zero to none interest in babies. Haymitch always ended up snapping at them to put his son back down and Effie always ended up apologizing and shouting at him as soon as they were gone.

The fact that Helios never slept through the night didn’t help with their mutual crankiness. He woke up every three hours _every_ night.

“The baby’s crying again.” Haymitch nudged Effie but she only burrowed further under the covers. “Princess, your child is starving.”

She opened a sleepy eye and sighed. “It’s your turn.”

He blinked. It was two in the morning, he was sitting in the bed half-asleep and he didn’t see how that made any sense. “You have the breasts, you go feed him.”

She was half-asleep but she still had strength enough to whack his arm. “I’m not a cow, Haymitch! I’m tired. Go fetch him. You never get up at night.”

“Again. You have the breasts.” he shrugged. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to go fetch your son before I smother you with your pillow.” she hissed, glaring daggers at him.

He had learned not to underestimate her threats when she was sleep-deprived so he _did_ get up and walked the short distance to the nursery, trying to work out a solution to the problem nobody seemed to have realized he had.

The crib didn’t have wheels and he didn’t want to drag it all the way to the bedroom… The child’s wailing became stronger and stronger, making Haymitch cringe.

“Yes, yes…” he tried to shush him, rubbing soothing circle on his son’s tummy. “I’m working on it, devil’s spawn.”

There was no acceptable solution.

“Seriously, Haymitch, how long does it take to pick up a baby?” Effie suddenly ranted from behind him, she reached inside the crib and before a second had passed, the boy was latched on her breast – _lucky him_ , he couldn’t help but think. She walked back to their bed still nursing the child and he followed. “What was taking you so long?”

“Nothing.” he replied defensively, laying back down next to her.

She was propped against the headboard and was watching him attentively. She switched the baby’s weight until she was holding him with a single arm and combed Haymitch’s dirty blond hair with her free fingers. Her lips were pursed together, he could almost see her adding two and two. He winced and she shook her head. “Haymitch, why can’t I remember a single instance in which you picked up the baby?”

Because he had never done it. He had been very careful about not doing it. She was doing most of the feeding, when Helios needed the bottle and she asked Haymitch to handle it, he made sure she put the baby in the baby carrier, when she asked him to help with the bath, he made sure she had already placed him in the small bathtub and he told her to take care of the drying so she would get the baby out herself, he did the same when nappies or clothes needed changing : always make sure the baby was on the baby changing table first.

“Oh my god, you never held our baby.” she gasped.

“It’s not a big deal.” he grumbled.

“Of course, it’s a big deal!” She covered Helios protectively, placing a hand on his ear and lowering her voice to the point of whispering. “He might think you don’t love him!”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, sweetheart, he’s a baby. He doesn’t know any better. I play with him, I take care of him… It’s not a big deal.”

“Well, it is to me.” she huffed. She waited until Helios was fed before she nodded at him. “Sit up.”

“No way.” he replied quickly. “I don’t want to.”

“Haymitch, sit up.” she ordered.

“I said no.” he spat.

They glared at each other and the child, probably picking up on the sudden tension, started squirming in her arms.

“Explain it to me, then.” she demanded. “Why wouldn’t you want to hold your son?”

He extended his hands. The ever-present quiver, he thought, was explanations enough. Sometimes it was so strong he couldn’t even pick up a small object. “I will drop him.”

Her face softened. “That won’t happen. You just need practice. Here, I will help you.”

He folded his arms over his chest petulantly. “I said no.”

“Stop acting like a child. We have one of our own now, I can’t deal with two.” she chided him. She was determined, he knew her, she wouldn’t stop at anything until he was holding the baby.

“Effie, he’s too small.” He tried to sound reasonable. “I will end up hurting him.” Playing with him or taking care of him was all well and good when she was nearby, ready to intervene, but holding him was too much. “I’m not… You shouldn’t hold a kid with killer’s hands. He’s innocent. I will… I will _soil_ him.” That was something he wouldn’t have been able to confess to anyone but her. He begged her with his eyes to understand.

She held his gaze for several seconds and then averted her eyes. She wiped some drool from Helios’ chin. “Do you think I’m soiling him?”

“You never killed anyone.” he replied at once.

“Perhaps not directly but is it any different?” she whispered.

It wasn’t. Not really.

“We shouldn’t have a kid.” The words left his mouth before he could think twice about it. He regretted them because he loved his son. He loved him like he had never loved anyone else on this earth but…

“No.” she agreed. “And if it had been up to us, we probably wouldn’t have one. Yet, he’s here and I do love him with all my heart.” She smiled at the child and then at him. “To him, our hands aren’t killer’s hands, Haymitch. They are his mother’s and father’s. Now, come here.”

He wasn’t convinced but he still let her manipulate his arms in the right position. He closed his eyes until he felt the light weight of his son, then he looked and it felt… It felt good. It felt natural. He was still very awkward with his movements and he was still terrified of dropping him but… He felt… _at peace_.

“I’m going to protect him, you know.” he told her. “I’m going to protect him better than I did Katniss and Peeta. I won’t fail this one.”

“I know.” she rested her head against his shoulder and wrapped an arm around his chest. She dropped a kiss on his neck and then on their son’s little foot. It made him smile. He wondered if that was how it felt to be happy.

He was still reluctant to pick the baby up after that night but Effie bullied him into it until he managed to do it without a second thought.

Paylor was elected when Helios turned a month old.

Peeta baked a chocolate and strawberry cake for the occasion.

Plutarch, Annie, Peeta and Johanna had just left and Haymitch and Effie were cleaning up the kitchen when someone knocked on the door. Haymitch had been expecting one of their friend – forgetting things behind was one of Annie’s special traits – but he froze when he saw the Capitol man on the threshold. It took him a few seconds to recognize him : he had put on weight since his time in prison and his hair was now dyed a dark shade of navy blue. They stared at each other in silence, then Haymitch glanced at the huge – _too huge_ , they didn’t have room for that – stuffed bear Effie’s father was carrying and he stepped aside to let him in.

“You hurt her and I promise you prison will look like a fun ride compared to what I will do.” he hissed to the man when he walked past him.

The Capitol man didn’t answer him but he nodded once and there was something like respect when he looked at Haymitch next.

Needless to say, there were a lot of tears on Effie’s part even though she tried to keep a cheerful face. She hated being estranged from her family so her father’s making the first step was a huge deal for her even though the man warned her that her sister was still grieving and her mother too set in her old ways to accept Effie’s choices so soon. Her father was conflicted, Haymitch saw it, but he obviously loved his daughter very dearly and he fell in love with his grandson at first glance.

Haymitch wasn’t surprised when more huge stuffed animals started being delivered in the following days.

They were happy.

It was new and a little frightening to Haymitch, but they were happy.

Even Katniss seemed to be doing better. They were decreasing the morphling and even though she was still occasionally trying to starve herself to death, that was happening less and less. Peeta was doing good, Annie’s pregnancy was an easy one – a fact Effie envied – Johanna was her usual charming bitching self…

Haymitch had been waiting for the other shoe to drop.

When Katniss’ trial date had been announced, Plutarch, Effie and Haymitch had started working on her defense – they were expecting a long trial either way, people wouldn’t be satisfied with a two days affair – but they were confident they would win.

On retrospect, he shouldn’t have been surprised when Katniss’ mother showed up at the flat, the night before the trial was due to begin, so late Haymitch and Effie were already ready for bed; she muttered under her breath about the rudeness of some people before opening the door with a bright smile.

“Mrs Everdeen!” she exclaimed with a mostly fake cheerfulness.

Haymitch didn’t quite know why Effie was acting so cold with the woman recently because they had appeared to get along well in Thirteen but he suspected it had to do with the fact that she spent more time checking on Katniss than her own mother did. He and Plutarch had tried to keep the healer updated with their choices for Katniss’ trial but the woman had repeatedly shut them out, telling them to do what they thought best.

“Do come in.” Effie offered.

Haymitch waited a few seconds on the couch in the living-room but when the women remained on the doorstep, his curiosity got the better of him and he joined them, instinctively placing a hand at the small of Effie’s back. She leaned into his side a little, a sure sign that she was uncomfortable. Mrs Everdeen didn’t appear to be more at ease, she actually looked relieved to see him.

“No, thank you.” the woman said at last. “I just wanted to let you know I’m leaving for Four in the morning. They need help with the hospital there and I… I need to get away for awhile.”

 _That_ , even Haymitch hadn’t seen it coming.

He was certain he and Effie were both gaping inelegantly but she was the first to recover. She straightened her shoulders, her chin jutting in the air, and, for a second, he was back in the Games when she was ready to chew the head of another escort for making fun of their District.

“I beg your pardon?” Effie hissed. He squeezed her waist but if she understood the warning, she didn’t show it. “I must have heard you wrong.”

Katniss’ mother flinched but she didn’t back down. She took a white envelope from her pocket and handed it to Haymitch. “Will you give it to her?”

Effie snatched it from her hand before Haymitch could reach for it.

“He won’t.” she snapped. “He won’t because you are not going anywhere. Do you _know_ what the press will say if her own mother doesn’t appear at Katniss’ trial? You aren’t leaving for Four, you are going to sit on the front row at the trial and look the part of the devoted mother you _should_ be.”

“Effie…” he started, torn between rebuking her for her judgemental attitude and getting angry too on Katniss’ behalf.

“Given that your first reaction when you discovered you were pregnant was to ask about abortion, I’m not sure you have any place to lecture me about what devoted mothers should be.” Mrs Everdeen retorted.

That was news to Haymitch but the personal attack was more than he could handle. Ever since her pregnancy, he was overprotective – she had reproached him his behavior enough times. He hated the way she flinched and glanced guiltily over her shoulder in the direction of the baby’s room. He ran his hand over her hip soothingly.

“Effie is right.” he said coldly. “If you don’t come to the trial, it will reflect badly on Katniss.”

“Katniss needs you.” Effie added, more calmly.

“No, she doesn’t.” Mrs Everdeen sighed. “I’m not asking you to understand…”

“You’re her mother.” she insisted before Haymitch could.

“I haven’t been Katniss’ mother since her father died.” the woman smiled sadly. “Look, Katniss… Katniss thinks she’s responsible for me just like she felt she was responsible for Prim.” The simple mention of her daughter’s name brought tears to her eyes. “She doesn’t let me take care of her, she doesn’t trust me to do that.” She shrugged. “She trusts you, she will let you help. She needs _you_.. And _I_ need to get away from the place where my daughter died. The memories…” She shook her head. “Please, give her the letter.”

She turned on her heels and walked away before one of them could try to stop her.

“Go after her.” Effie nudged him but he simply closed the door.

“She won’t come back.” He was certain of it. He had learned to know the woman during the year following the seventy-fourth Hunger Games and he had gathered information from what Katniss _didn’t_ say. Mrs Everdeen’s way of dealing with grief was to run away, he was painfully familiar with the method.

“But the trial…” Effie let her sentence trail before breathing out a sigh. “I don’t understand how a mother can abandon her child.” She hurried to the nursery and grabbed the edge of the crib as if she was afraid someone would come and steal their son away. He followed her at a more leisured pace, already working out how to twist Mrs Everdeen’s absence to their advantage. “What she says is true in case you were wondering. Abortion was my first thought.”

He wrapped his arms around her and propped his chin on her shoulder to watch their son’s peaceful slumber. “Mine too.” She leaned against him, he pressed a kiss against the side of her neck. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over now.”

They watched Helios in silence for a while, unconsciously matching their own breathing with his.

“Our defense lies upon the fact that Katniss is mentally unstable.” Effie said after a few minutes. “Is there any risk of a conversation between you and her proving Coin’s murder was planned being reported at court? Because if there is… ”

“It wasn’t planned.” He tightened his hold, not wanting to think about that day.

“But you knew.” she insisted. “You sent me away. You knew.”

It would have been the perfect moment to come clean about the new batch of Games and the vote he had cast. He had said yes to Katniss not to Coin’s offer but the others didn’t know that and it was a matter of time before Peeta or Johanna let the cat out of the bag… He could explain, defend himself, Effie would probably believe him. He was too tired for that.

“I wasn’t sure.” he shrugged. “I would have find a way to get away with it if she hadn’t. Coin was dangerous. She needed to be taken down.”

She didn’t question his judgment, she didn’t ask what right he had to decide for an entire country. She simply pressed her forehead against his neck before turning around in his arms. “Do you ever stop to wonder how we went from hating each other to being responsible for three children, one of them biologically ours?”

“No.” he chuckled. “It gives me a headache.”

“Wise decision.” She pressed her lips to his. “Take me to bed, will you?”

That was a request he was happy to comply with.

“It will be fine.” he mumbled in her shoulder as he was falling asleep.

It wasn’t fine.

The trial took a bad start when there were so many reporters camping in front of the courthouse that they had to send soldiers to escort witnesses inside. One of the reporter was so inconsiderate as to put the lens of his camera inside Helios’ pram, Haymitch broke his nose – Plutarch wasn’t pleased about that – and another one asked Effie if she was afraid the child would turn out to be a drunkard too – Plutarch wasn’t pleased about the broken foot either but Effie’s heels _were_ rather deadly when she stomped around.

After that incident, Effie stayed at home with the baby and followed the trial on TV. She helped at night when Haymitch and Plutarch staggered into the flat, exhausted and with headaches the size of District Seven. Haymitch had troubles keeping away from liquor but holding Helios was the best deterrent, he didn’t want his son to ever see him drunk. The kid deserved better.

The bargain was Plutarch’s idea but Effie and Haymitch agreed wholeheartedly. Once it had been proved that Katniss was mentally unstable, it was just a matter of finding the right “punishment” – executing a President couldn’t go unpunished, it would send the wrong message – so Plutarch had the idea of a therapy, with a supervision order, not unlike what Peeta was doing. All they needed was someone who would take responsibility for the girl. Ideally that would have been her mother, given the current situation, it would have to be her former mentor.

“The flat is too small for three.” Effie mused, the night before they suggest their idea to the court. “We will need to buy a house.”

“Rent.” he corrected her.

“Yes, you’re right.” she nodded. “We had a lot of expenses recently. Babies don’t come cheap…” It wasn’t actually what he meant, he still had not intention of remaining in the Capitol forever but he didn’t think it was the right time to go into that. Besides, she was happy to talk to herself. “Rent for now. I will start looking tomorrow shall I?”  

He should have known it wouldn’t go according to plan.

The court consented to release Katniss in his care in exchange of her undergoing therapy… As long as that happened in Twelve. Out of sight out of mind. He was faced with no other choice but to accept. There was no time to phone Effie or consult her on the matter and there was no need to anyway because the other option was to leave Katniss to a life in prison.

He agreed to leave for Twelve the next day with the girl.

“Let’s go have a drink.” he suggested to Plutarch as soon as they were out of the courthouse.

He didn’t want to go back to Twelve. He didn’t want to face his past. He didn’t want to face Effie either.

“That will make it worse.” the former Gamemaker sighed. “She will understand. Eventually.”

Plutarch escorted him home. Haymitch should have been angry but he was actually glad for the company because he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have stopped to get drunk on the way and it would have _indeed_ made it worse.

When he entered the flat, it was so silent he almost thought Effie was gone. She wasn’t. She was laying on the bed, reading a magazine – or _pretending_ to read a magazine, she was turning the pages so quickly a lot of them ripped – the baby was next to her, surrounded by cushions to prevent a fall.

“Congratulations.” she said in a flat voice, when he came in, not even looking up from her magazine.

“Don’t be a bitch about this.” he sighed. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Language.” she snapped. She turned – _ripped_ – another page. “So. Did you figure out how you are going to make it work? Are you coming back on the week-ends? Or a week a month? I assume you still wish to be a part of your son’s life even though you apparently don’t want me to feature in yours. Moving to the other end of the country might be a bit extreme though, Haymitch. You could simply have said you never meant for it to be so serious between us and you wanted to break up with me.”

It was a long speech and he was tired but he understood the main part anyway. “What? What are you going on about, I don’t want to leave you.”

“Really?” she huffed, closing her magazine and tossing it on her nightstand. “Because I can’t think of another reason a man would accept to move to the other side of Panem without consulting his wife on the matter.”

She climbed off the bed, scooped up the baby who had started crying and walked to the kitchen. She was very apt at preparing a bottle one-handed now.

“We’re not married.” he muttered.

“I gave you a child.” she retorted. “I don’t care about official papers, we’re more than married.”

She might have a point.

“You think I want to go back there, sweetheart?” he grumbled. “I couldn’t refuse. What did you want me to do?”

“I don’t know.” she admitted, rocking the baby a little. She leaned against the fridge and stared at him. “When do you leave?”

“ _We_ leave tomorrow at noon.” he frowned. “You’re coming.” He couldn’t help the note of uncertainty in his voice. She was angry about him making decisions for her – _again –_ but she wasn’t actually being serious about him making regular trips to the Capitol, was she?

“In a dumpster of a house not fit to welcome a newborn? In a District without a proper hospital when we have a premature baby only a month and a half old?” she asked, matter-of-factly. “Never mind that living in Twelve isn’t my choice, Haymitch, I am _not_ taking my baby there, at least not while it isn’t safe for him to go.”

“It’s not mine either.” he growled. “And you’re not staying behind, you’re coming.”

“No.” she repeated firmly. “I am not.”

They stared at each other, realizing at the same time they were in a dead-end. They weren’t even angry, not really, they were just…

“Effie, you’re not staying behind.” he said again, holding out his arms for his son. He hated carrying him when his hands were shaking as bad as they were at that second but he needed to hold him close. She passed Helios to him without question, watching as he gathered the baby against his chest protectively. “You’re asking me to choose between Helios and Katniss. Don’t do that.”

She lowered her eyes and took a deep breath. “Alright. You will go tomorrow with Katniss and make sure the house is livable and the District is safe for us. I will… make arrangements to have the furniture sent over. I will follow in a few weeks with Peeta. Hopefully there will be a hospital there by that time.”

“No.” he spat. He started to pace the length of the kitchen, too agitated to stay put. “You’re coming tomorrow. You and Helios.”

“Haymitch, be reasonable…” she tried only to flinch when he started shouting.

“I’m not leaving you behind!” The baby started wailing in fear but he avoided Effie’s attempts to take him back from him. He held him closer, rocking him gently. “Sorry, sorry…” he whispered to his son. His heart was racing when he turned to Effie again. She was biting her lower lip, her eyes darting from him to the infant in his arms. He must have looked crazy, he thought. “I… I can’t.”

“A few days, then.” she bargained. “The time necessary for you to get the house ready.”

He shook his head. “You’re coming tomorrow. I will phone Sae, ask if she can do something for the house… Plutarch will find someone to pack the flat and send everything to Twelve. It might be difficult for a few days but it will be fine, Princess. You can redecorate the whole house. You can do whatever you want. Hang pink curtains for all I care…”

His own bargaining attempts were cheap, even he could recognize that but what could convince her to go to Twelve with him? There was _nothing_ for her in Twelve. Nothing at all. There was nothing for him either except nightmarish memories.

“A few days won’t make a difference.” she argued. “I am not going to keep your son from you, Haymitch, you can trust me when I say I will bring him. I am not thrilled about moving, true, but I am less thrilled about being parted from you. We will come…”

“I can’t leave without either of you.” he growled. “What’s so hard to understand, sweetheart? Go and buy a brain instead of new shoes next time.”

He stormed out of the kitchen, the baby still in his arms. She followed, of course.

“You’re being irrational!” she shouted. “I don’t see how a few days make any difference. Why can’t you see it’s ridiculous to…”

“Because when you leave your family behind, they die!” he yelled back, turning on his heel to face her.

They both froze, staring at each other.

Then Helios started wailing.

Haymitch was slightly out of breath, his limbs were heavy with fear. He let her take the baby and slumped on the couch, wishing for a drink. Anything would have been enough, even a beer. She hummed to their son slowly, rocking him until his crying morphed into those cute baby noises Helios made so easily. When he was calmer, she disappeared in the nursery and came back empty-handed.

He fought his growing panic at having his son out of his sight. He _knew_ the child was safe in the next room but the fear wasn’t logical and it certainly wasn’t the kind he could control – not without a lot of liquor anyway.

“I have to take care of Peeta and Katniss.” he said when she sat down next to him on the couch. “I can’t save Katniss if you don’t help me. I know it’s unfair and I know it’s asking a lot, sweetheart, but if you don’t come with me I’m not leaving.”

She wasn’t pleased, he could feel her irritation coming from her in waves, so he was surprised when she placed her hand on his and squeezed. “Phone ahead. I need the house clean at the very least. If someone could find a crib until ours is delivered, it would be helpful. Doctor Haltman is back in Thirteen… It’s not that far, I will see if I can get her to come for check-ups or maybe we could go to her…”

He would have agreed to anything. He would have loved to thank her but he wasn’t good at that. He kissed her instead, his heart was full to the brim with feelings he didn’t know how to put into words.

“We’re having a toasting.” he told her between two kisses. She already had his mother’s ring anyway.

“I don’t know what that is.” She didn’t seem very curious to find out, she slid a leg across his lap until she was straddling him to get a better access to his mouth. He did a quick job at unbuttoning her green blouse but she stopped him before things could go much further, pecking his lips a final time. “I need to start packing.”

He thought she was joking but she left and never returned.

“Tease!” he accused her.

Her light laughter echoed from the bedroom.

“That will teach you to uproot me to the other side of the country without asking me first for the second time in a year!” she replied.

He granted her the point.

Getting Katniss from her prison was both a relief and a chore. The girl was as charming as ever – which meant not at all – and she was difficult about everything. He supposed it was a good thing that the fire was still there buried under the apathy and the brooding but, still, he was glad when they reached the hovercraft because Effie was better at handling brooding teenagers than he was – or, at least, she was better at hiding the fact they were grating on her nerves. Plutarch’s presence was a surprise but he supposed it shouldn’t have been, the Gamemaker probably wanted to check up on Katniss as well as on Haymitch and Effie.

Katniss made an effort to _oh_ and _ah_ appropriately in front of Helios but everyone could see it was more for Effie’s sake than out of real interest. When the girl reached for him, Haymitch was quick to pluck the baby out of his mother’s arms and take him out of Katniss’ way.

“Look but don’t touch.” he warned. Helios was already cranky enough. It was his first hovercraft trip and he threw up thrice – twice on his father, once on Plutarch : Effie seemed to have a sixth sense when vomit was involved, she claimed it came from her long experience in taking care of him.

“Don’t mind him, dear.” Effie rolled her eyes. “He is incapable of behaving properly with anyone, it’s nothing personal.”

“He’s a mother hen.” Plutarch added, suppressing his laughter with difficulties.

Nobody paid any mind to him when he grumbled all the rest of the way about being the only one taking his son’s safety seriously. Even Helios seemed unconvinced because he kept flunking his little hand in the direction of Katniss’ braid. He couldn’t actually grab yet but he was certainly trying to figure it out.

The real mother hen, though, was without contest Effie. He wouldn’t have liked to be in Katniss’ shoes because between the former escort and Graesy Sae, the girl wasn’t allowed a moment of rest. Taking care of the teenager certainly eased Effie’s settling in Twelve, giving her a purpose and something to fill her time with – other than clicking her tongue at the state of his house and redecorating it from floor to ceiling.

He never did look at the amount of money she spent on it because not only was it so ambitious they had to sleep at Katniss’ for a few nights but it was also done _very_ quickly for a District in full rebuilding.

Helios was a good name choice : their son did seem to put light in their life. Life was harder in Twelve than it was in the Capitol, there were more bad days – days when the grief was too heavy for Haymitch to bear, days when he felt as if he was lacking purpose and was adrift, days when all he he could do was stay in bed in fear he would get up only to search for a bottle of liquor – but the good days still outnumbered them.

Effie was good for him, she kept him on his toes, she kept him fighting, she kept him from drowning… And their baby was the best thing that had happened to Haymitch. There was a first thing happening every day. Sometimes, he took so much pleasure in those quiet moments when Helios did something for the first time, he even forgot to be frightened about what could possibly happen to him.

Helios was four months old when Peeta’s call came. Effie volunteered to go fetch him because she wanted to spend a few days in the Capitol – getting in touch with her family, he figured – and she didn’t want to bring Helios on a full day train ride. Haymitch had a lot of problems with that, the main one being that he would be stuck at home alone with a small baby.

He and Helios managed just fine, though – with the help of Graesy Sae and Katniss’ unnecessary and annoying visits to remind him that a baby needed to eat now and then and despite Effie’s numerous calls to make sure they were all still alive – although, he supposed Effie would have a fit when she’d see the state the house was in. He was fully prepared to blame their child.

Effie, however, didn’t even _notice_ the general mess when she finally came back. She made a beeline for the baby playpen and picked him up without even a glance for Haymitch.

“Oh, Mommy missed you so, _so_ much, sweetie…” she cooed to the baby who was more interested in catching her wayward blond curls than listening to her incessant chatter. “Did you behave for Daddy? Or, rather… Did Daddy behave for you?”

She grinned at him and Haymitch lifted an eyebrow.

“Funny.” he deadpanned.

“Isn’t it?” She was so cheeky… He couldn’t help himself. He carefully took the baby from her and put him back in his playpen. Helios immediately went back to flinging his toys left and right – his new favorite game. “Haymitch…” Her warning was playful, she stepped backward until she reached the corridor’s wall. Her retreat blocked, she had no other choice but to accept the wandering hands on her waist and the hungry lips on her neck. “Haymitch...” It was a sigh that time and it made him smirk.

“Missed me?” he teased.

“Don’t I always?” she nuzzled his neck. “Peeta went to Katniss’.”

“Is that safe?” he frowned. He stopped fumbling with the zipper of her pencil skirt to look at her but she coiled a hand around his neck and pulled him in a kiss that left him breathless. “I will take that as a yes. How about an early night?”

“It’s three in the afternoon.” she reminded him, unbuttoning his shirt swiftly.

“How about a nap?” he smirked. Her skirt fell to the ground in a heap of fabric.

“I’m not sleepy.” She faked a pout.

He kissed that right off her face. “You will be when I’m done with you.”

Her laughter was the sweetest sound he knew and it might have only been a few days but he had missed her terribly. He was too used to living with her to be without her now.

He couldn’t imagine a life without her and their son.

He didn’t want to think how his life would have turned out if he had left her in the Capitol instead of bringing her to Thirteen.

They wouldn’t have had Helios.

They wouldn’t have been as happy as they were.

It was too terrible to even consider.

**_ The End  _ **


End file.
